


Everything's A Story

by ashilrak



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [10]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/F, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Gen, M/M, Minimal warnings, Multi, Untagged unless requested
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2018-12-01 20:49:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 53
Words: 24,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11494479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashilrak/pseuds/ashilrak
Summary: A collection of the remaining miscellaneous ficlets I've posted on tumblr





	1. Take notes, Sweetheart

Alexander Hamilton was a small man, short and lithe. He knew he could quite the intimidating picture when he put in the effort - neatened his hair, trimmed his goatee, donned a tailored suit. He’d been told that the sheer determination he always radiated was often enough to make a man turn tail and run the other direction. But he very rarely put in the effort, and that determination was often hidden by a frazzles air caused by too much caffeine and not enough sleep.

He occupied an important position, and one that demanded respect, it just wasn’t a visible one. If you knew who he was, you’d treat him as he deserved, if you didn’t, you might just pass him over. 

Washington often enjoyed his presence by his side at meetings and other such events, and Alexander knew that many would mentally categorize him as just another aide and promptly forget he was even there. It was useful at times, but when Alexander would go to express his opinion, he’d often get dismissed. 

It was something he had grown to expect, but nothing he’d ever grow to enjoy.

Thomas Jefferson had requested a meeting with Washington, and Alexander had been invited along. He had worked with Jefferson before, but they had never met face-to-face. It was no surprise that Alexander wasn’t recognized, but it was a surprise when he found himself backed against a wall by the other man during a break from the meeting.

“You seem awfully smart for just being one of Washington’s many assistants, I could find a better use for you, you know.”

Jefferson’s finger was tracing the side of his face, and Alexander pushed him away, “I’m fine where I am, thank you.”

His face twisted into a sneer, “Do you know who I am? I could have you arrested if you so much as lay a finger on me. Now, we’re going to go back into that room, and you’re going to take notes on how things get done, and afterwards, you’re going to pay me a little visit and show me everything you learned.” 

The man’s gaze was heated, and his eyes narrowed with anger when Alex spit in his face.

“I can make it so you never find a job again, sweetheart. Be careful how you treat me.”

Alexander pushed Jefferson away again, and straightened his tie, “Don’t call me sweetheart.”

He typed a quick message in his phone, and found pleasure in the surprise in Washington’s eyes when he explained just why Jefferson had to be escorted out of the building by security.


	2. Angelica/Thomas - I think you forgot who wears the pants in this relationship

It was amusing to see how people perceived Jefferson when they didn’t know Angelica. They had worked together on the Washington campaign, and after spending hour upon hour together, had fallen into some sort of relationship. The two were both hesitant to classify it as such, but that is exactly what it was.

Those who had worked with them, and their friends and family were aware of how their relationship worked. Angelica and Thomas were both incredibly intelligent, strong-minded people, and when together they either clashed or melded beautifully. Jefferson welcomed the opportunity to drop his attitude and simply relax, and Angelica liked being able to say whatever was on her mind without having to worry about whose toes she was stepping on.

After Washington’s campaign, Jefferson started to go down his own path, and he was successful. The people who worked for him would characterize him as charismatic and confident; always ready for a debate to prove he was right. That was an image cultivated by Jefferson, and one that worked to his favor.

The people who worked with him would picture the Angelica he occasionally mentioned to be a quiet woman, strong in her own way, but ultimately supportive of Jefferson’s life over her own. 

Even James was able to fall into that trap occasionally, when he’d go day after day hearing those around him describe such a thing. He knew that Angelica was the last person to let herself be put to the side, but it was a fantasy that was a sort of reality in the office. 

And if it got to James’ head, it also went to Thomas’. It wasn’t on purpose, but sometimes the days would be long and hard with little break between, and he wouldn’t always have the time to unwind before settling in for the night.

He had been invited to a ball of sorts, and Angelica was expected to attend as his plus one. On a normal night, he might have brought it up, and asked if she was interested in going. She would have said yes, of course, but that is not what came out of his mouth.

Instead, Thomas said, “Darlin’, we’re going to a fundraiser in December, clear your calendar.”

“Oh, we are?” Angelica raised one perfectly groomed brow, “I think you’re forgetting who wears the pants in this relationship, honey.”


	3. The Floor Is Lava

It was three in the morning when Alexander Hamilton was making his way back from the library. He had expected to enter the hallway and feel the sound of the door ruining the silence, interrupted by only the sound of some laughter a couple floors up. 

That is not what Alexander was greeted with when he walked down his corridor. Instead, he found himself stopping not long after he crossed the threshold, as he was confronted with the sound of laughter and shouts as his roommate, Hercules Mulligan, tried to jump twenty feet between furniture that had been shoved into the hall.

He removed his earbuds and turned to Tench, one of the kids in the room across from his, and asked, “Dude, what the hell is happening?” 

Alex got a smile in response, “You haven’t figured it out, man? I thought you were supposed to be the smart one here - the floor is lava.”

Tench then turn and tried to make the same ridiculous jump that Hercules had, and failed, landing flat on his face in the middle of the floor.

Alex climbed up onto the chair now abandoned by Tench, “Be careful, the floor is lava.”


	4. I bet you can’t go 24 hours without cussing

It was a simple bet, and one that Alex shouldn’t have had a problem with. It wasn’t his fault that he lost, and he was more than willing to argue that Jefferson had cheated.

John had bet him he couldn’t go 24 hours without swearing - nothing that difficult, unless you were Alexander Hamilton. He used the word ‘fuck’ like punctuation - it was an art form he had mastered while in college. Even with that in mind, he should have been fine - just focusing more on his word choices. Of course, because he was Alexander Hamilton, he had the tendency to speak without thinking, so the concept of filtering his word choice was daunting, but not a challenge he was unwilling to take on.

Somehow Jefferson had heard about it, and made it his mission to make Alex fail. 

The arguments and debates throughout the day were expected.

The other man on his knees before him unzipping his jeans with a wicked smirk on his face was not.


	5. Adrienne/Lafayette - You’re an idiot. I married an idiot.

Adrienne had not know what she expected from Gilbert. The arrangement was one that had been made when they were kids, in honor of an outdated system. They were both told that they were free to divorce after a couple of years if they so chose, but there were reasons that they had to at least go through with the ceremony and give it a try.

Adrienne could deal with that. From what she had head, Gilbert wasn’t really that bad. The original plan had been that they grow up together, but his parents had passed away and he was raised by some relative in America. 

They had messaged each other, but they were stilted and awkward, each unsure how to reach out with the knowledge that they were getting married hanging over their heads.

He came home the summer after his first year at his fancy American university, at the urging of his grandmother. Adrienne’s mother had grown less sure of the arrangement the longer she went without meeting Gilbert, and for some reason, Adrienne had been the one to reassure her.

The week after that conversation with her mother, she made the decision to skype Gilbert. She had seen thousands of pictures of the man, and his instagram could have belonged to a fashion model, but it was different seeing him in pajamas on her computer screen, looking just as gorgeous as the picture that had formed in her mind.

She had expected to be disappointed, but that was the opposite of what happened.

The first skype call sparked the start of their friendship, and from there their messages weren’t so awkward.

Adrienne had gone with his grandmother to pick him up from the airport, and was surprised when he went to her first to give her a hug saying, “Adrienne, I did not expect to see you here, but I am overjoyed that you are. I have a gift for you!”

Gilbert was taller than she had imagined, and just as handsome in real life.

The gift ended up being a college sweatshirt.

They grew closer that summer, in all ways. Adrienne cried his last day in France, and the tears had turned happy when he officially proposed. The ring was beautiful, but still not as beautiful as him.

Gilbert came to France for his winter break as well, and it was during that time they got married, less than two months after she turned eighteen.

Their honeymoon was cut-short by Gilbert leaving for America once more, and it was the moment he kissed he goodbye she decided she’d be attending the same university as him if she got accepted.

She did, and Gilbert’s smile made Adrienne positive she had made the right decision.

At the end of that summer, she flew with him, and held hands for most of the flight, with him telling her stories of his friends that would be there to greet them, “Adrienne, they’re going to love you.”

She was exhausted by the time they landed in New York, but her husband was as energetic as ever. 

There were four men waiting for them at the baggage claim, holding a sign saying “Lafayettes”. She turned to Gilbert, and watched as the man saw them and began walking over. He must have tripped on something in the process, because less than a minute later he was lying flat on his face of the floor of the airport.

Adrienne couldn’t hide the affection in her words as she helped him up, “You’re an idiot, I’ve married an idiot.”

“But I’m your idiot.”


	6. You hear that? That’s the sound of my awesomeness.

It was a typical day at the office, and Burr was trying once again to tell Alexander the benefits of keeping one’s opinion to himself. Today he was going the route of it letting you figure out exactly where all of your potential opponents and allies stand on an issue so that you can advance by manipulating the situation around you.

Alexander wasn’t the type of man to go that way throughout his life, and being upfront with his opinion and argumentative as hell had worked just fine for him so far, and so he said, “You hear that Burr? That’s the sound of how much I care.” 

He waves his hand around the empty room, completely silent except for their conversation and the coffee machine.

Burr gave him a flat look, “Very clever. Did they teach that to you at Columbia? I thought you were supposed to be some sort of genius, and that’s all you have for me.”

Hamilton smiled, and started to press the necessary buttons on the coffee machine for his own caffeinated monstrosity, “I’m not supposed to be some sort of genius, I am a genius. I have the certificate and everything.”

“Really now.”

Alexander raised an eyebrow, “You don’t sound very impressed, I’m awesome.”

Whatever Burr was about to say was cut-off by the sound of Alexander’s phone ringing. Seeing that it was Eliza, he answered the phone with, “You hear that, Burr? That’s the sound of my awesomeness, that’s how awesome I am.”

Burr nodded, but Alexander wasn’t paying attention to the other man when Eliza said from the other end, “Actually, Alexander,” she took in an audible breath, “this is the sound of your wife telling you your son was just hit by a car and is in the hospital, the doctor’s don’t think he’ll make it.”


	7. That’s a fact, Jack

Henry Laurens loved his son, even thought he knew they disagreed on many things. 

John had never been exactly what he had expected his son to be, but no child ever was. 

John Laurens went off to fight in the war, the war ended, and then John Laurens died. Henry Laurens might not have been the best father, but he tried his best, and no father wanted to outlive his children.

It was easy to pretend that Jack was still off fighting the good fight. He hadn’t been home in months, why would he be now. The letters were delayed, but one could never trust the post.

It was must difficult to maintain that daydream standing in front of the boy’s grave.

DULCE ET DECORUM EST PRO PATRIA MORI

‘Sweet and fitting it is to die for one’s Country’

Henry Laurens kneeled on the ground, and tracing the Latin inscription he let out a breath, “and that’s a fact, Jack.”


	8. Angelica/Thomas - I’ll just tell your mom on you

Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy were trusted by their parents for the most part, as the three were intelligent and well-behaved, but the expectation of sharing important life events was maintained.

Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy were all very bad at this. It wasn’t that they set out with the intention to hide events from their parents, but more that they were never together, and the first person you thought to call when a cute boy or girl asked you out was not your mother. 

Of course, Eliza couldn’t really tell her mother that she had a boyfriend of over a year because then her mother would wonder why she’d never heard of the boy before. As more time went by, the angrier her mother would be. It wasn’t her fault she hadn’t expected Alexander to stick around. After all, he had quite a bit of a reputation, and she had initially been interested in a bit of fun and nothing more. How could her mother possibly blame her for the way Alexander had wormed his way into her heart?

Peggy knew that her parents would theoretically be okay with her having a girlfriend, but she didn’t necessarily want to tell them she wasn’t straight by introducing Maria to them. 

Angelica had no way of knowing if her parents even knew what polyamory was, and even if they did, the conversation that would ensure in order to explain just how her, Dolley, Thomas, and James worked would be exhausting. The holidays were stressful enough, and she didn’t want to deal with that.

All three sisters had dealt with their significant others by not inviting them to thanksgiving, and not a single one had raised a fuss. No, the problem was when the three of them gathered in Angelica’s apartment before heading home together.

It had taken less time for Eliza to get there than expected, and she had let herself in only to find Thomas kneeling in front of Angelica holding a ring. She backed out as quietly as possible and shut the door.

Peggy arrived before Thomas left, and Eliza grabbed her arm before she could go in, “Don’t.”

“Why not? Are they having wild, kinky sex or something? I’ve always been curious how their relationship worked, I have to know.”

Eliza gripped tighter, “No! Thomas is proposing.”

Peggy’s eyes went wide, “We gotta tell mom.”

“No! If we tell Mom about them, Angelica is gonna tell her about Maria and Alex!”

“Wait,” Peggy nodded, “you’re right. Speaking of Maria and Alex, did you know they had sex at one point?”

The door opened before Eliza could respond, and out walked Thomas with a missing tie and a cocky grin, “Ladies.” 

“Oh my god,” Peggy shouted into the now visible apartment, “you’re engaged.”

Angelica’s hair was disheveled, but she gestured them in, “How do you possibly know that.”

Eliza gave her a hug, “I walked in when he was kneeling, and I’ve been waiting in the hall since.”

“I’m so sorry, that was about an hour ago.”

Eliza just squeezed tighter, “It’s fine, it was a special moment. Are James and Dolley here, or was it just Thomas?”

“Just Thomas, you know James and Dolley are married.”

Peggy had wandered into the kitchen at some point, and brought out a bottle of champagne and three flutes, “That’s nice, but how are you going to break the news? You can’t really hide a wedding, now can you?”


	9. If you die, I’m going to kill you

General George Washington knew that it was more than a death wish that motivated Alexander Hamilton to continue to beg and plea for a command. Hamilton was an orphan with no means and no connections - being aide-de-camp to the Commander of the Continental Army might hold some sway, but not enough to get where Hamilton desired.

Hamilton was more than an aide, and despite what others might say about him treating his staff as a father would his sons, that was most certainly not the case with Alexander. His darling Alexander with the eyes the color of the waters surrounding the islands he came from, with a mind burning brighter than any fire ever could. 

His love deserved this command, and the General was going to give it to him.

Hamilton stood at attention in his tent where Washington observed from his place behind his desk. This could very well be the last time they laid eyes on one another, and he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity to memorize his boy’s face and posture.

“Hamilton, I’m giving you the command you’ve been waiting for.”

The boy was careful to keep his excitement showing only in his eyes, paired with the triumph of a man finally getting what he believed he deserved.

“I will have you know that if you manage to get yourself killed, I will bargain with the Lord until you are in front of me so that I might have the pleasure of killing you myself.”


	10. I warned you. He warned you. Your freaking mom warned you.

Eliza should have known better to fall for Alexander’s words. They were too well-chosen, too practiced - hiding something dark beneath their perfect facade.

No one wrote letters anymore, and when Eliza had asked him about it, Alexander had said, “But letters are a time-honored tradition in the process of courting thee one you love, my dearest. My time and energy has been poured into this ink and this paper, and you deserve all that I can possibly give you and more. The sentiments might be the same were they relayed through voice or digital medium, but letters are forever yours to do with as you wish, be it save them in a box or burn to ash.”

He had followed his words with a bow and a kiss on the back of her, and Eliza had laughed them away. She should have known then, truly. His words were melodious when spoken, and his manners spoke of a different time - she had just been too wrapped in her perfect gentlemen caller to give the warnings much heed.

And she had been warned; Angelica had looked at his swirling scripts, and said it was too perfectly imperfect to be anything but natural - not hours spent practicing calligraphy to get each letter just right, but learning the way to form a letter and twisting it until it suited your hand just so. Angelica had been the one to introduce them, entranced in his gaze immediately, but already married herself.

When Angelica brought him over she had been helpless, for there was no one strong enough to resist Alexander’s charms. Even her own mother, a woman of strong mind and health, shared with her over dinner, “You know, Elizabeth, if you ever tire of your Alexander, do feel free to send him my way. I thought I’d outgrown that stage of my life, but your boy sure does remind me of a simpler time. I’d watch out for him - if he can get me interested, imagine what he can do to a young woman, no offense to you of course.” 

Eliza had heard everything said to her, she just didn’t listen. Alexander proposed, and she had said yes. It was the happiest she had ever been, and that didn’t change even when her Alexander said, “I feel obliged to warn you, my darling, that I am nowhere near good enough for you. I will ruin you, I am sure of it.” 

She had laughed it off.

That had been a mistake.

Angelica had been planning to come over for a wine and movie night; a monthly tradition that had started shortly after the Hamiltons married. When no one answered her knock, she used her spare key to unlock the door. Her loud gasp was covered by the sound of the bottle of wine crashing on the hardwood floors.

Her darling sister Eliza was sitting on the couch, no doubt waiting for her to arrive. There was nothing wrong with her location, but rather with Eliza. Her skin, normally lit from within by a healthy glow, was pale and dull, and from her neck dripped twin rivulets of blood. 

She took a careful step forward, leaving the door open and the broken glass on the floor behind her. Angelica kneeled before the sofa as one might before an altar, and pulled her sister close, “Oh, Eliza. This was Alexander, wasn’t it. We should have know, I should have known. I warned you he was too good to be true, even he warned you. It wasn’t a warning though, it was a promise. He’s ruined you, he’s killed you. Even Mother told you she had been taken in by his charm, and when does that happen? Never.”

A sob escaped her throat.

“A fucking vampire, he just had to be a vampire. We can’t even give you a proper burial now, you deserve so much more than this.”

A shadow cast over her, and Angelica looked up to meet the gaze of the monster her sister had married, “You did this, you knew this was going to happen, and yet you let yourself marry her anyways. We can’t honor her properly. You have robbed us all of the best thing in our lives. I hope you know that you’re never going to get anything this good ever again. Congratulations on the rest of you life, because I am going to ruin it.”

Alexander said nothing.

Silver wasn’t deadly to vampires, but it sure burnt like a bitch. It wasn’t common knowledge, but the Church’s were an old family of hunters, and John had insisted she always carry certain tools with her.

Angelica had thought him paranoid, and for the first time, she was grateful for the advice as she removed a small silver dagger from the brace disguised as a cuff and shoved it under her brother-in-law’s skin.


	11. She’s 6, how can she scare you?

Aaron Burr loved his daughter beyond belief. She was his everything - his pride, his joy, his light, his reason for living - but in this very moment, she was the last thing he wanted to see. 

Theo was in first grade, and for her birthday, she was allowed to bring in a parent or other important adult, and introduce them to the class. The adult would then be permitted to either stay for lunch, or take her out for about an hour. 

It was an adorable little tradition, and one Theo had been looking forward to. But, the thing was, that Aaron couldn’t go, and he didn’t want to be the one to tell her.

I wasn’t that he didn’t want to go, it was that he wasn’t sure he could bring himself to do it. Her mother was supposed to go with her - they’d been talking about it all year since the first kid’s birthday in early September. 

They had asked all the kids with summer birthdays to wait until the last month of school, and in the time between September and May, Theodosia had given in to her cancer.

Taking care of himself and Theo in her absence was difficult enough, but Aaron took care to not take Theodosia’s place in certain activities, but rather to find alternatives that achieved the same result.

This would be directly acknowledging the fact that Theodosia wouldn’t be there - couldn’t. 

Of course it was Hamilton who cornered him when he walked into the office that morning, “Burr, why are you acting all funny? I don’t smell, do I?”

Aaron shook his head, “No, Hamilton. Theo’s birthday is tomorrow.”

All he got in return was a weird look.

“Theo’s birthday is tomorrow and her mother was supposed to go into school with her, but she can’t. And I won’t. But I haven’t told her yet.”

Hamilton grabbed his arm, and took him to his office, sitting him down and handing him a cold, half-empty cup of coffee. “Alright. So, you have to tell your daughter that no one is going to school with her on her birthday. I’m assuming there’s some sort of reason why anyone would go with her in the first place.”

Aaron nodded.

“You’re going to have to tell her. It’ll only be worse if you wait to tell her when dropping her off or sending her on the bus or whatever it is that you do.”

He took a sip of the cold coffee, and swallowed it down, regretting his decision. “I’m scared,” Aaron said, meeting Hamilton’s gaze, “she’s going to be angry, and sad, and it will only serve as a reminder that her mother is gone.”

The other man didn’t blink, “She’s 6, how can she scare you?”

“One, she’s turning seven tomorrow. Two, I’m not terrified of my daughter, but more of the feelings that are going to come up.”

Hamilton leaned against his desk, folded his arms, and said, “Burr, she’s still six right now. And I get why you’re scared, but this is something you have to do. You know I lost my mother at a young age, so did you. It’s not easy, and it never will be. But what I can tell you is this: as someone who never really had an adult in my life after my mother passed, you not going is going to put a fracture in your relationship. You can’t run from your problems like that without hurting her in the process.”

Aaron sighed, and looked down at the cup in his hands.


	12. Jeffercles - Meeting online au

Thomas was a man who was used to getting what he wanted, and when he was scrolling through one day and saw a photograph of an attractive man wearing a beautiful coat, he had no problem reaching out to the original poster to figure out where the coat was from.

The photo was staged in such a way that Thomas was expecting a message with a dismissive tone and the name of some obscure designer, if he got any response at all.

Instead, he got a paragraph-long response apologizing for the late response, thanking him for his interest, and saying that he was a tailor, and that was a piece he had made for a friend.

Tone was difficult to distinguish over text at times, but the message managed to somehow convey a kindness. Thomas’ first reaction had been to close the app - after all, he couldn’t get the coat, what was the point. That was ruined when his phone dinged and there was a new message from the same person saying that if he was interested, he could have a coat made, or be directed toward similar designs.

It was an easy decision to make, and soon emails and measurements were exchanged. Thomas was meticulous in what he wanted, and whoever was on the other end of the Son of Liberty Tailor Co. seemed to be more than willing to deliver.

There was always a detail to be discussed, and there were several comments about a perfect fit not being guaranteed as it was being done on a mannequin and not the person who’d be wearing it. Thomas simply assured them that it was sure to be better than off the rack no matter what.

He had his coat within six weeks, and the fit had been wonderful. Not thinking about it, Thomas snapped a mirror-pic of him in the coat and sent it to the tailor with the message, “Great fit, you did a great job, thanks.” 

He received a simple “looks great” in response, and that was that.

But the tailor didn’t leave Thomas’ mind. Every time his phone screen lit up with a message, he was disappointed when it wasn’t the tailor. 

James got sick of his whining a couple of weeks in, “Thomas, you’re being an idiot. You’ve somehow managed to get a crush on this stranger on the internet who made you a coat. Just message them! Say hi! What’s the worst that can happen? They ignore you? It’s the fucking internet, Thomas.”

“But what if it’s more than one person?”

James sighed, “Oh my god Thomas, just message them.”

“No.”

James reached his hand across the table, “You know what, give me your phone.”

“No,” Thomas held the phone close to his chest.

James leaned over the table and ripped it out of his hands and entered the passcode, “you know, you really need to change this,.”

“Don’t do anything, James. Jemmy, don’t do it.”

James slid the phone across the table, “too late.”

The tailor must have been online because in response to James’ “Hey! I miss talking to you” was “Same! I don’t think I ever told you my name btw, it’s Hercules.”

Thomas felt a smile spread across his face, and he looked up to find James grinning, “See, I told you.”


	13. Jeffmads - meeting in prison au

Thomas peered over to the man sitting down the table from him. He was short, skinny, and new. He scooted down the bench until he was seated directly across from the newcomer. He put on his best smile, one he had learned from years of being toted around at parties, and said, “Hello, I’m Thomas.”

The man looked up at him, eyes wide and guarded, “I’m James.”

Thomas folded his hands and set them on top of the table, still smiling, “So, James, you’re new here.”

James nodded.

“You’re going to need protection.”

James’ nod was slower this time, “will I?”

“Yes,” Thomas shrugged, “but first, what are you in for?”

“Murder.”


	14. Von Steuben/Pierre sneaking away from a ball to get son alone time together (takes place in A Matter of Personal Preference)

The balls always promised entertainment. The dancing and food and drinks made the events worth attending, but the whispers that flittered between guests made the events worth seeing through to the end.

This ball promised something more. It was the first public appearance of the King’s candidates, after all. The Selection was always the best source of gossip and bets after all, and with a King like George, it could go any direction.

Friedrich had his third flute of champagne in hand and Pierre on his arm when the candidates made their appearance. They were beautiful, as expected. Some more graceful than others, but each grabbing someone’s attention. His eyes went to Alexander, and then to the crowds to see who else was entranced. There was something about the boy that pulled you in, and tonight he was spectacular - inky black curls framing violet eyes, and the tuxedo tailored to his body.

There were already whispers making their way through the crowd, and Friedrich knew to keep an ear out. Already he could hear the compliments and remarks of derision being thrown the candidate’s way. There were always guesses as to who was sponsoring who, and he saw several a lord and lady stake out a councilmember to interrogate.

Lord Shippen was a blunt fellow who carried a great deal of influence, and there was not a way Von Steuben could have stepped out of the man’s way without drawing negative attention. He squeezed Pierre’s waist, and smiled his practiced grin, “Hello, Lord Shippen! I see you’ve gotten an eyeful of the candidates! What do you think of the boys?”

“Baron!,” Shippen’s own smile was dangerous, “Personally, I would have loved to see my daughter amongst their number, but that was not the way it was meant to be.” Lord Shippen stepped closer, “Now, I must ask, are any of these boys yours?”

Pierre pressed tighter into his side, and Friedrich shook his head, “Not in the sense you’re thinking, but one of them does have my support.”

“And who might that be?”

Friedrich looked towards the boys dancing around the room, “Alexander Hamilton. He was just dancing with the Laurens heir, but is now on the arm of young Benjamin Tallmadge.”

Lord Shippen watched Alexander for a minute before turning to Friedrich, “He is quite a handsome one.”

“Yes,” Friedrich laughed, “that he is. Intelligent too, and stubborn.”

Lord Shippen raised a brow, “is that what we want for consort?”

“No,” Friedrich smirked, “but it is what the King wants.”

“I see.”

Friedrich took a sip of his champagne, “Do you?”

Lord Shippen walked away, and Friedrich turned down to Pierre, “Now, darling boy, you seem awfully stressed by these events, would you like to spirit off for a meanwhile? There will be plenty of time to tend to Alexander later, don’t you think?”

Pierre looked up at him, eyes sparkling, and said, “Oh, you’d know I’d love it.”

The wonderful thing about spending so much time at the palace was the Friedrich knew all the rooms that tended to be unused and empty on these occasions, and within ten minutes he and Pierre were alone.

It was unfortunate just how much of the ball they missed, but Friedrich got his dance with Alexander just in time.


	15. Take off your shirt

Erik the intern was doing his job of bringing everyone their third coffee of the day. He had this down to an art. He would put all the ventis on the bottom carrier, the grandes in the middle, and the talls on the very top. Of course, the coffee order didn’t split perfectly into four of each size, so he had taken it upon himself to handle that.

His work was appreciated, going by the smiles he had started to get rather than the quick dismissal that had been thrown his direction at first.

Erik was a busy man. There were less interns than required for the tasks set out, and he prided himself on taking on as much as he could handle. After all, he had never once seen a member of the staff not working on something, so keeping busy was a priority.

His main concern was that he had yet to master the art of the scheduled day, but Erik’s main problem was that he hadn’t realized that very few people in charge actually had - that’s what the assistants and interns were there for.

Some of the staff didn’t like putting their trust in such people, instead preferring to be directly in charge of as much as possible. One of these men was Alexander Hamilton, and Alexander Hamilton was running late to a meeting with the President, and Alexander Hamilton was literally running down the hall.

Most of the people in the hall were used to this happening, but Erik was no one of those people, and even if he was, he couldn’t see in front of his face and hadn’t trained his ear for the sound of Alexander Hamilton doing anything and ruining everything.

As used as the people were to navigating around Hamilton, Hamilton was used to people navigating around him - which meant that the two very unaware men crashed into each other. In any other situation this might have been a minor inconvenience, but all twelve coffees Erik was carrying managed to spill all over Alexander Hamilton, youngest Treasury Secretary of the United states of America.

Erik had heard stories about the man - who hadn’t - but nothing could have prepared him for the shock that overwhelmed him, or the fear that drove into his soul at Hamilton’s back of, “You, take of your shirt.”

“Uhhh, me?”

Hamilton stood up from where he was on the ground, and straightened his stained tie, “Actually, I need everything you’re wearing. I’m fave minutes late for a meeting with the President. Strip.”

Erik was confused, but his hands went to his tie and started undoing it, “Am I just supposed to stand here naked?”

Hamilton’s laugh was insulting, “No. We’re about the same size, which is the only reason why this will work. We’re going to switch clothes, since somehow you didn’t get any coffee on you, and I’m going to go to my meeting and you’re going to go replace those coffees and deal with the complaints about your tardiness. I expect the suit and the rest of it dry-cleaned and left with my assistant before the week is out.”

Erik nodded, and finished unbuttoning his shirt. Apparently he wasn’t moving fast enough for the other man, because as he was tugging it off, Hamilton’s hands were at his belt.

Five minutes later, Erik found himself in a bathroom putting on Alexander Hamilton’s bright green and coffee stained suit. 

He was amused to note that when he finally made his way to the bullpen with the coffee, people acknowledged the coffee stain as the reason but not a single comment was made about the clothing itself.

Or rather, not a single comment was made to his face.


	16. You’re never this quiet, what’s wrong?

Hercules Mulligan didn’t believe in the concept of a primal urge when used in the context of defending rapists or murdered or abusers or other acts that resulted in harm.

He did believe in the context of primal urges when applied to the situations where Hercules would find his self-control lacking. 

John found him in the aftermath of one of these situations. 

Hercules had settled himself on the couch after he realized there wasn’t that much he could do except wait it out, and turned on a cooking show. 

John had slammed opened the door, and had immediately started going on and on about how the partner for his group project in his one polisci class was amazing and beautiful in all ways. 

About twenty minutes went by before John joined him on the couch, and another ten before he turned to Hercules and asked, “You’re never this quiet, what’s wrong?”

All Hercules had to say was communicated with a shrug of his shoulders and waving the spoon and jar of peanut butter in his roommate’s face.


	17. Jeffmads - i don’t know what the fuck true love even is but i do want to hang out with you for basically the rest of my life. (let’s hang out - TO THE DEATH)

James wasn’t used to having someone’s constant attention - an actual, real-life person who insisted on hanging around him at every possible moment. It was strange, bewildering, wonderful, and also annoying.

It was overwhelming. James had learned to function on his own - he had grown to enjoy the moments spent curled up in the corner of his room while his classmates were off doing whatever it was that they did. It wasn’t easy to adapt to someone being there, and wanting to be paid attention to - but James did it.

For Thomas.

Thomas who was loud and exhuberant and beautiful with a mind sharper than a dagger and a smile brighter than the sun. 

He was sick more often than he was not, and even being used to the feeling of a congested head and aching limbs didn’t mean James’ moods didn’t shift with his health. Thomas tried to be a good friend about it - was more doting than his own mother - but even Thomas got antsy and demanding, and when the only thing coursing through his brain was how much he wanted to curl up in bed and go to sleep, James sent Thomas away with a cruel comment.

James missed Thomas’ hurt look, but he did not miss Thomas’ absence the following days. 

As annoying as Thomas sometimes was when James wanted nothing more than to read in peace, his not being there was worse. At some point Thomas had managed to worm himself into James’ life, and it wasn’t easy going back to what he had before.

He didn’t try texting or calling Thomas, knowing Thomas was just dramatic enough to not answer to try to prove some sort of point. Instead, James called Lafayette, who answered with an audible grin, “Oh yes, your dear Thomas has been moping without you to keep him company. Go fix him. If you fail, you will regret it.”

Lafayette let him into the room, and James found Thomas sitting in bed wearing a high-school sweatshirt and glasses. Thomas looked up when the door opened, and looked surprised upon seeing just how had walked in.

James took a seat at the end of Thomas’ bed, “Hello.”

Thomas blinked, “uh, hi. What are you doing here?”

“To see you, of course.”

“I thought you wanted me to leave you alone to let you die in peace,” Thomas frowned,

“Did I really say that?”

Thomas nodded.

James shurgged, “I was sick. I’m sorry, but I get moody at times. Even you, the great Thomas Jefferson, are not immune.”

“You think I”m great?” Thomas grinned.

James smiled and nodded, “Only sometimes.”

“Does this mean you didn’t mean it when you said you never wanted to hang out ever again?”

James laughed, “I didn’t mean that at all - in fact, I challenge thee, Thomas Jefferson, to hang out with me, to the death.”

“To the death?” Thomas raised his brows, “Isn’t that a bit dramatic?”

“You’re saying I’m being dramatic? Oh dear, I should reign myself in.”

James found himself shoved into the mattress and a pillow in his face, Thomas’ laughter filling his ears, “I missed you, Jemmy.”

“I missed you too, Thomas.”


	18. Hamlaf - Meeting at a party whilst drunk

There was something to be said about a party. There was music, attractive people, and plenty of liquor. Hercules had dragged him out, saying he needed to quit fantasizing over his professor, and had shoved a beer into his hand as soon as they had arrived.

The fogginess that came with being anywhere near drunk muted things and made other things brighter. At some point he had found himself in the middle of what was probably the living room surrounded by sweaty bodies as they all jumped to the beat - not a single person sober. 

Someone had claimed him as their own. Lafayette assumed they were male, with long dark hair and bright eyes that caught the light. Lafayette dragged them along with him when he went to get another beer, and was surprised to find the man somewhat familiar - one of Washington’s favorites.

The man stepped closer, this time standing and looking rather than grinding, “My, you’re really pretty. You’re gorgeous, unreal. And don’t think I didn’t feel those abs of yours. What I wouldn’t give to take you to bed tonight, honestly. I’d be a mess. Please, please. I don’t know, just, you’re really hot.”

“Oh, really?” Lafayette laughed, “What if I don’t want to.”

The man frowned, but shrugged, “Then I guess you leave me here and I’ll forever be disappointed but I’ll survive.”

There was something intoxicating about the other man, and Lafayette wasn’t sober enough to stop his gaze from drifting down to the man’s plump lips, “What if I do take you to bed? What then?”

“Well,” the man smirked and pushed his hips forward suggestively, “then either I’ll suck your probably pretty cock - I’ve been told I’m good at that - or you fuck me into whatever somewhat flat surface we find.”

Lafayette groaned at the image of the man’s eyes glinting up at him, and leaned down for a kiss. He pulled away, laughing at the man’s whine, “I am too drunk,” he pushed his own hips into the man’s abdomen, “but I want to. I am going to give you my number, and then you will, how you say, give me a, ah, booty call.”

The man started to laugh, “You can’t be for real.”

“I’m sorry but I am, I think I want to remember you.”


	19. Madilton - fake relationship au

James couldn’t tell you what it was that inspired him to do it, but he knew he couldn’t deal with Thomas anymore. 

Thomas who was still mooning over Angelica Schuyler. Thomas who had been his roommate for two years. Thomas who he had been crushing on since they first met as kids. 

He and Thomas had been studying in the library when Angelica walked in with her sisters and claimed a nearby table. Thomas turned to him and said, “Do you think I should ask her out? I mean, the library is a neutral place, right?”

James had shaken his head, “Thomas, she’s rejected you the past five times, I don’t think that’s going to change. Just give it up.”

“You don’t understand, Jemmy. Maybe after someone catches you attention you will.” 

He had shaken his head again - Thomas couldn’t be that blind - and said, “Someone has already caught my attention, Thomas. In fact, longer than Angelica’s had yours, I’d say.”

Thomas’ attention became focused on James then, “What do you mean? Who? Why haven’t you told me?”

There were a million things James could have said, but instead he shrugged and said, “You wouldn’t want to know.” 

“Oh really? Who wouldn’t I want to know about? You’re my friend, Jemmy, I want you to tell me everything.”

He had shaken his head again and leaned back in his chair and said, “You know what, let’s play a game.”

“Alright,” Thomas nodded, “what kind of game?’

“We both try to get with our crushes first, and whoever loses has to pay for a date for the other one.”

“Deal.”

James could feel his stomach start to twist with the thought of asking Thomas, and he looked around the library in an attempt to distract himself. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Alexander Hamilton typing furiously on a second-hand computer surrounded by empty cups of coffee. They’d worked together before, Alex would probably do it for the free dinner the date would entail.

He took in a deep breath and stood up, ignoring Thomas’ look of shock. He walked over to Alexander and took a seat. 

Several moments passed by before Hamilton noticed him, and he had to clear his throat a couple of times to catch the other man’s attention. Hamilton looked up and said, “Uh, hi. What do you want?”

“I need a favor.”

Hamilton’s eyes narrowed, “what kind of favor?”

“I made a bet with Thomas. I got annoyed with him mooning over Angelica and told him I had a secret crush and made a bet about who between us could get a date with our crush first.”

Hamilton’s brows shot up, “I’m your secret crush?”

He chuckled, “we’re pretending you’re my secret crush.”

“Alright, what’s in it for me?”

James shrugged, “Thomas is going to pay for us to go on a date which means free dinner.”

Hamilton smiled, “Free food and a chance to fuck with Jefferson? Count me in.”


	20. JohnLaf - Roommates AU

John didn’t know what to expect from his future roommate. All he knew was their name and that they were an international student from France, which meant that they had already been in the dorm for a while. 

He opened the door to his dorm with his father and siblings in toe and was greeted with the sight of the most attractive person he’d ever seen lying shirtless on his bed wearing headphones. 

John set his bags down and turned to his roommate, who watched with wide eyes as they all came in, “Uh, hi, I’m John. This is my dad, and this is Patsy, James, and Henry.”

His roommate smiled, and John felt his heart sink in his chest, “Hello! I insist that you call me Lafayette!”

Lafayette got up and shook everyone’s hands, pressing a kiss to Martha’s cheek, and helped them bring everything in, Every time John caught a glimpse of Lafayette lifting something, he felt the dread creep in.

There was no way he’d be able to survive the school year when his roommate looked like that. When Martha caught his eye and winked at him, he groaned and pressed his face into his hands.


	21. “I’ve never killed anyone before.”

George Washington wasn’t a man of intelligence or learning, but he could see into a person’s soul like no other on this earth. Men and women alike cycled through the General’s ranks, and the few who remained shared a desperation that their Commander seemed to feed on.

The young Hamilton was brilliant and hungry. It was no surprise the Generals sought him out, but it was shocking to hear that each offer was rejected without a second thought.

When he called Hamilton in, there was no doubt in the General’s mind that this was the one he had been waiting for. Hamilton didn’t need to be manipulated - had lived the life of those Washington’s peers sneered down their nose at for as long as he had been on God’s earth.

Hamilton didn’t need a single string pulled in any direction, didn’t need to be turned or pulled inside out until what the General wanted emerged from the layers. Hamilton tried to wrap himself with a cloak of respectability, but Washington could see right through it.

All Hamilton needed was a cause and an opportunity for advancement.

The General shed a single mask once the tent flap closed behind Hamilton, and in that moment, Hamilton was his.

Training in war time was different - necessary rather than formal. The motions were all the same, but the intention much stronger. Hamilton’s desperation didn’t need to be brought out with a fight, and he rose through the ranks in no time at all.

The General’s military family was much more than a close-knit group going about their individual duties.

They all had their orders.

The General would take them into his quarters, peer into their soul, and speak.

Tench Tilghman was one of the easiest to break. He believed in the cause, in their creed, but there was always a voice in the back of his skull wondering if his choice was correct. If it was really so obvious, why wasn’t the rest of his family with him? Tilghman’s desperation was to win, not for any true sense of patriotism, but to prove himself right.

It was a selfish desire, and one that would never leave him. Washington plucked it, weaved it between his fingers, and spat it back out, “Tilghman, I need you to go out. Prove to me you’re capable. The war could very well rest on this singular action. I have intelligence that makes me believe we’re close. You can do this, all you have to do is believe you can and then follow through. Can you do that for me?”

Tilghman nodded his head, “Of course, Commander.”

“Very well. Now, go forth. And remember, the creed comes first.”

Hamilton didn’t need that - didn’t have that sense of loyalty the other men did. America was not yet his own, and neither was Britain. Hamilton’s personal leanings were as neutral as could be while still choosing a side and supporting it with everything he had. The General wasn’t sure how much Hamilton believed and how much was a matter of principle and of being correct.

Hamilton’s beliefs didn’t matter - what mattered were his actions.

Training was short, but Hamilton was skilled. Hamilton was called into the General’s quarters, and he stood before his Commander awaiting his orders.

The General’s eyes bore into Hamilton’s being, “you know what I am going to ask you to do.”

“I do.”

“You will succeed.”

Hamilton nodded, “Yes, your excellency.”

“Speak your concerns.”

“I’ve never killed anyone before.”

Washington blinked once, “yes, you have.”

“Not like this.”

“No, not like this.”


	22. Aisle Burr - Shut up, I am a delight!

Aaron prided himself on being calm and rational, but there was something about Alexander Hamilton that got under his skin like nothing else in the world. He’d restrain himself throughout the day, silent after whatever debate Hamilton insisted on starting.

But as soon as the day ended and he was in his own apartment, he’d let the words free.

“I don’t understand, Theo, I just don’t get it. I don’t do anything to him! I sit there, doing my job, and Hamilton just makes it his goal to go out of his way to start something!” 

Theodosia was a beautfiul and amazing woman, and she had never once put up with Aaron’s bullshit. She lifted a manicured brow and said, “Has it occurred to you that he might just rile you up to get a reaction?”

Aaron threw his hands into the air, “That doesn’t make sense! He always has some sort of reason! He’s always trying to pry his way into places he doesn’t belong, he doesn’t do anything without some sort of purpose.”

“And if that purpose is for his own entertainment? Getting the mean and cold Aaron Burr to show some hint of emotion?”

He stopped in his tracks, “Shut up, I am a delight! I am not mean and cold, I am professional. There’s a difference, and one Hamilton somehow still hasn’t learned. There’s a time and place for debates and spectacle, and the office is not that place!”

“Uh-huh,” Theodosia nodded, “has anyone else done anything to stop him?”

“No.”

“Then let it be, Aaron - the fact that they’re getting to you is probably part of the reason they keep doing it.”


	23. Von Steuben/Pierre - Why does anyone have to be naked?

Pierre had long go mastered the art of adjusting to the situations he found himself in. He didn’t get where he was without the ability to adapt.

But this was far from what he had pictured when he received an invitation to one of the Baron’s infamous parties. Pierre knew it wasn’t the graceful dances and small talk common youth dreamed about after school, but he had thought he wouldn’t be faced with the site of five naked middle-aged men when he walked into the room.

He stood there in shock before there was a hand wrapped around his elbow pulling him toward the bar, “Ah, Pierre, I’m glad you could make it.”

It was the baron, clad in an smoking jacket that was falling open. Pierre fell into step beside the noble, “It’s certainly different than I had imagine.”

“It always is,” Von Steuben laughed, “now you, my beautiful boy, must simply try this.” 

A small glass was shoved into his hand, and Von Stueben had his own. Pierre held it up for inspection, “what is this?”

“I’m not sure,” Von Steuben pulled out a match and lit them both, “but now we drink.”

Pierre took in a deep breath and swallowed it down, closing his eyes as he felt the burn down the back of his throat, “Well then. I have to ask, why does anyone need to be naked in here?”

Von Steuben let out a hearty laugh, “Ah, but you have so much to learn,” he leaned in close and quirked a brow, “and I’d be more than happy to teach you.”


	24. blanket, green, screen, time, hands

She had too much time on her hands. 

Elizabeth knew that people thought her strange, but she would keep reminding herself that everyone remembered differently. 

For most people it’d be the sound of gunshots in the distance, a familiar face on the television screen, or a sudden meeting with someone you knew a lifetime before. 

Her memories weren’t clear. They were hazy things, and as Elizabeth got older, she realized she was remembering her previous life in reverse order. No one really believed in aged eyes or old souls - said that you remembered exactly as much as you were meant to, and since everyone had multiple lives, everyone’s eyes were just as old. But there was something about Elizabeth that was out of the ordinary. She remembered being at dinner one night - her first real, clear memory - and watching her sister laugh at something their mother had said. Her very next memory was that of dying. 

It helped her fall asleep. 

People liked to comment on her optimism, and she’d smile and nod, unsure of how to explain the feeling of waking up each morning thinking the moments just before falling asleep were her last.

Her memories came in quiet, soothing moments. They were slow to arrive, and Elizabeth could sense that she had lived a long life. There were so many things she knew, and yet there’d be gaps. Names and dates and places that were missing. 

She pulled the thread through the blanket she was sewing. It was an odd hobby, but there was a familiarity in pulling the needle through the fabric that let the memories flow a bit easier than at any other time.

It was a quilt, with green and brown swatches of fabric. They were soothing colors, easy to lose focus in. 

Elizabeth gasped when she felt the sharp prick of a needle in the pad of her thumb. She brought it up to her mouth to suck on the wound, and looked at the small stain on the bright green square she had been working on.

It was funny how the most heartbreaking memories were the most peaceful. Elizabeth soothed herself to sleep every night with the thought of her last breaths, and she felt a similar calm overcome her when she remembered a middle-aged man lying on a bed, continuing to speak with his very last breath.

Her Hamilton.

She rubbed at the stain with a clean finger, and continued to sew.


	25. Love, chilled, betrayal, comfort, serendipity

Eliza opened the binder, and read the words in bold on the first page, “Searching for Serendipity.”

It was funny how creativity spurned creativity. She’d never considered herself much of an artist or writer, but there was something about Alexander’s constant typing that sparked something in her soul. She used to giggle and think it was just because of how much love she had for him in her heart, but something about the feeling moved her to put words on a page.

It wasn’t much, and it wasn’t good, but it was hers. 53,729 words typed up, printed out, and put away in a closet never to see the light of day. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like that. 

She had plans for it at one point, had found something appealing in writing while the kids were at school. It was a bit housewife-ish, to write romance novels while alone in the house.

Eliza had found comfort in it, had felt a new sense of pride fill her when she typed the final word. 

She had typed “the end” just for the fun of it. It was the middle of the day, and she had decided to surprise Alex for lunch to celebrate.

That had been her first mistake.

The second had been continuing on into her husband’s office despite the worried looks being thrown her way as she neared Alexander’s door.

What greeted her chilled her to the bone. She knew Alexander was far from the best of men, but he was hers, or so she had believed. It was a betrayal of the worst sort. 

Eliza had knocked once on the door and walked in without waiting for an answer. She was greeted with the site of her husband fucking his way into an unknown woman with luscious dark curls sweeping over bare shoulders.

She still didn’t know if he had seen her that day, or if it had only been gossip that reached his ear before he came home. 

None of that mattered. Alexander came home from work that day to find a week’s worth of clothing packed away into a suitcase sitting in front of the door. 

That had been three months ago, and Eliza hadn’t talked to Alexander since for more than a minute or two at a time. 

She traced the title with her finger, and shut the binder.

It wasn’t good, but that didn’t matter. “Searching for Serendipity” wasn’t going to be read by anyone. It had served its purpose. 

Eliza had taken those three months to sort out the mess that was her emotions, and had managed to churn it out into a 79,539 word manuscript. This was better, it had a pain and feeling behind it where Serendipity had just been empty. 

Alexander had hurt her, yes, but she would move on.


	26. Y'all, y'all'd've, y'ain't, Doritos, yeet

They had run out of alcohol a while ago, which really should have been their first sign that it was time to go home. 

Alex took a chip out of the bag of doritos they were using in place of shots for a game of never have I ever, “I swear y’all are aiming for me, specifically. What have I ever done to any of you?”

Angelica raised a brow, hiccuped, and said, “do you want a list?”

“No.”

Lafayette leaned in front of him and fell into Alex’s lap, giggling, “I do.”

“Oooh, I’ve seen the rough draft, y’aint ready.”

James placed a hand on Thomas’ shoulder, “y’aint?”

Thomas nodded, “Y’aint.”

“I hate you.”

Alex lifted a dorito into the ear, “I’d say I’d drink to that but all I have is a corn chip.”

Angelica took it from his hand, “why are we spending our time like this, I’m better than this, I really am.”

“No you’re not.”

Thomas burped, “Angelica, you’re perfect. But, if you really wanted to not be this lame, y’all’d’ve gone to the bars instead. But no, you decided to be good samaritans and join me in jemmy’s dorm because he’s too small to be legal.”

“y’all’d’ve,” Lafayette giggled, “that’s worse than yeet, Thomas. What are you?”

“I’m brilliant.” Thomas said.


	27. Cheez-its, fish, soda, box, and pet for the print thing?

John knew that Lafayette was smart, even if he was a man of action rather than learning. He was the type of person one could rely on in a tricky situation, no matter how bizarre.

He was not the type of person to trust to take care of your pet.

They all lived in each other’s pockets, for the most part. Alex and Hercules roomed together, but Hercules didn’t trust Alex to take care of his fish, so the duty was passed onto Lafayette. 

The same Lafayette was holding a box of cheez-its, ready to pour it into the tank when John walked into the room. 

He walked forward and put his hand on Lafayette’s shoulder, “you’re not seriously about to do what I think you are, are you?”

Lafayette froze, “Uh, no?” and set the box down, “where would you get that idea?

“Is that an empty can of soda?” John pointed to the can of coke sitting on Hercules’ side table, next to the fish tank.

Lafayette blinked, “Perhaps.”

“Please tell me you didn’t pour soda into the fish tank.” John’s hand went to the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t know why you think like this.”

“We’re going to need to get Hercules another fish, aren’t we?”

Lafayette frowned, “I’ll pay you to keep this secret.”


	28. Cello. Lime. Dust. Nauseous. Aaaand daffodils.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -alcohol-

Thomas threw back the shot and bit down on the lime, throat burning from the tequila and mouth bursting with the tart, citrus taste. 

It was never a good idea to drink alone, but if he was going to do it, he was going to do it the right way. He’d hang onto to what little dignity he had left and use glasses and the proper order of things. He had the rest of the bottle, three limes, and the entire night ahead of him.

When Thomas drank, he got emotional. James had told him one too many times he was done with watching Thomas sob for hours on end. It wasn’t a good place to be, and it was all to easy to mistake sadness for nostalgia when not in the right mind.

He knew better than to go into her favorite room, when sober. 

Now though, it seemed like the best idea; relive his happiest memories and perhaps have a chance at feeling something good again - even if it was just the echo. 

The hinges of the door squeaked, so long had passed since it had been opened and he had forbid any of the cleaners from going in. 

The dust was thick. He ran a finger over the piano and stared at the stripe of shiny, dark wood that was revealed. 

Thomas looked around and took in a deep breath when he felt a ball of something start to rise in his throat. The corners of his eyes were prickling, and he was starting to feel nauseous.

This was a mistake.

He took a another step forward. His hand clenched around the bottle that was sitting on the counter in the kitchen, but he kept walking. He stopped in front of the fireplace and stared at his reflection in the mirror over the mantle. 

Thomas closed his eyes.

When he opened them, the room was still the same, and the feeling of wrongness continued to permeate his entire being. 

He looked to the side and his eyes stopped on the cello propped up in the corner. The same cello he had once spent hours playing for Martha while she listened and smiled.

Martha had the most beautiful smile - it lit up her face, and made her eyes shine.

A sob forced its way out of his throat. 

Thomas turned on his heel. His steps were unsteady as he neared the door, and he tripped on the edge of the carpet, bringing a table down with him. The floor was dusty, and the smell was far from pleasant. His head hurt, and his stomach was still spinning. He closed his eyes and felt the warm tears wet his lashes, stinging in a distant sensation.

He rolled over onto his back, surprised when he felt broken glass dig into his arm. Thomas didn’t move, but looked over. 

It was a vase - a wedding gift - and in it were the dead, dried out stems of what had once been daffodils. Thomas fisted his hand in the carpet at the sight, ignoring the sting of the glass cutting into the flesh of his hand in favor of focusing on breathing as his sobs filled the dark room.


	29. time traveler!Burr

The first jump has been an accident.

He had been young and had missed his mother’s touch and his father’s warm gaze. He had opened his eyes and saw that he had appeared in the main room, years prior to where he was. He had been unable to stop the tears from falling down his face - confusion and relief overshadowing everything else. Aaron had seen a toddler sitting on the floor.

Esther Burr hadn’t taken very long to piece together what had happened. She had stepped forward and traced a finger along the side of Aaron’s face, “you’re older, aren’t you? Why did you come here, of all places?”

He had started to sob, and had leaned forward to hide his face in his mother’s neck, had focused on breathing in her scent. Aaron knew his mother was intelligent, but that moment had cemented that as fact. It took her less than a moment to react, wrapping her arms around him, “I don’t get to see you at this age, do I?”

Aaron had shaken his head, had still found himself unable to form words.

“You’re very luck, love,” she had breathed out, “that I know what this is.”

He had hiccuped.

She had brought him in close again and said, “there’s a story in my family, of those of us who are destined to live tragic lives - they say we can jump through time. I always thought it was an old wives’ tale, to soothe us young children when we complained that things weren’t going our way.” She had pulled back, tracing his face once more, “but I now see that it is true. I fear for your future, but know that even if I never see you again, my love will be with you constantly.”

His mother had pressed one final kiss to his cheek, and then she was gone.

Aaron had woken up alone, eyes still damp, in his rightful time.

That was the only time he had gone back to his mother.

He still didn’t know what caused it, and he never brought it up - couldn’t bring it up for fear of the reaction. Over the years, Aaron had figured out some of the rules. He could only go to times he had, or would, experience. He was limited to his lifetime, and he could only visit a moment once.

Sometimes, he could tell he’d want to revisit a memory while it was happening. The times where the air was filled with joy and laughter - smiling wide enough to make his cheeks hurt. Those were the moments Aaron paid special attention to.

Those were the moments that kept him sane when the pain became too much.

Those were the moments that made him realize why it was only those who were doomed to make mistakes had the ability.

Aaron travelled forward once - had wanted to see where he’d end up after he got out of Princeton.

It was a mess - chaos and blood and gunpowder. In that moment, he had vowed to never travel forward again.

He had found himself dreading the future - his sense of purpose gone. He could have very well visited the single moment leading up to his death. Aaron continued to go through the motions, knowing he had to accept what was to come.

The signs were all there. What the battle was had been a mystery - but it was easy to spot the growing tension in the colonies.

He still wasn’t sure if it was a desire to join the fight or obligation knowing he was going to be involved that had him donning the navy uniform of the continental army.

Not once did he jump forward to see if they won.

Temptation was greater than anything else he had known. It was the possibility that he couldn’t find out that held him back. Aaron had no desire to see if he didn’t make it through the war.

He travelled back, though. When the cold crept deep and the hunger gnawed at his insides, he’d sneak away, to a different time, and layer his shirts and stockings, and go to a tavern or raid a kitchen for a warm meal.

It meant he lived while people around him lost fingers and toes and became parchment-thin.

Aaron considered bringing others back with him. The questions would be inescapable, and so he did not.

He didn’t even know if he could.

There was nothing that pushed him to test it. The urge was there, at times.

The closest he had been was the night he had somehow ended up taking care of a drunk Alexander Hamilton after a successful case.

Hamilton had started to ramble on, “my wife is wonderful, did you know? She’s lovely, and smarter than you might think. She’s awfully clever.” Alexander hand hiccuped, and leaned into his side, “Did I ever tell you the time she wrote to the General to send me home? The General!” Aaron had heard, but he shook his head, “And she’s a fantastic mother. I would kiss the ground she walked on if she ever gave the slightest indication she wanted me to, she deserves it, she gave me the lights of my life. Ah, have you seen Philip recently? He’s grown so much.”

It was the normal ramblings. Alexander Hamilton was a self-centered man who was always going after more than his lot in life, but Alexander Hamilton was a man who adored his family.

They had gone to a different tavern than usual, a further walk from the Hamilton household, and in the time different, Hamilton’s ramblings had taken on a different tone, “My mother would have loved to see Philip. She could have adored him, I’m sure of it.” Alexander had quieted, something unusual, “I miss her, sometimes. I want to show her what I’ve done, what I’ve achieved, and how much more I still have to do. If she could see me now,” Alexander had laughed, “Oh, she’d look me up and down and tell me to fix my hair, rest, and to wear something that didn’t stand out so much. She tried to hide, sometimes.”

Alexander had laughed again, a harsher sound.

Aaron hadn’t had as much as Alexander that night, but the whiskey was what had brought the thought on, he was sure of it. Aaron had put his hand around Alexander’s waist to help the man stay balanced, and had said, “I could take you back, you know. Or, at least I think I can.”

Hamilton had laughed, “Burr, here I thought you were the sober one.”

More years passed by, and he took fewer jumps. Hunger and chill no longer haunted him - nostalgia was the main suspect anymore. Aaron would long for simpler times, and instead of wasting hours nursing a drink and thinking back, he’d go.

It was pleasant.

Reality was difficult.

He tried to take someone with him, once. Theodosia died, and a week later, Aaron went back to visit her while he knew he had been away from home. She had been the one person he had told about his ability, so her shock at seeing him aged did not last long.

Tears had started to leave his eyes when he took her in. He latched his hand around her wrist, and tried to go back.

When he had shown up in his study, alone, with the smell of her perfume embedded in his mind, he had broken down in sobs.

The next two weeks had been spent alternating between trying to drink himself to death and going back and observing Theodosia. At some point, when the memories had started to blur together into a teary mess, Aaron realized that he had to treasure the moments. He could observe their relationship once more, but only once.

He saved her laughter and smiles for when the world became harsh.

As the tension grew between him and Hamilton, he started to hide in the dark corners of the office they had once shared, watching the two of them bicker with an aching familiarity.

Going back to Hamilton made it easier to not go back to Theodosia.

There was always a part of him that longed to go back to the start - the first day they had run into each other, but another part of him told him to save it.

He was grateful he did.

Aaron had promised himself long ago that he’d never travel forward, but as he crossed the Hudson, he closed his eyes and broke his promise.

His hands were trembling when he came back. His disappearance was short enough to appear to be a flicker, and caused no concern. His sudden ashen face and shaking were passed off as an onset of nerves.

Aaron watched Hamilton raised his arm, and for a split-second, he realized he had a choice. Hamilton would throw away his shot, he could too. The issue would be settled, and life could continue on.

The decision was made, and Aaron began to lower his arm.

Hamilton’s shot startled him, too focused in his own thoughts, and a cry left his mouth as the bullet left the gun, “Wait!”

Alexander Hamilton was dead, and Aaron Burr killed him.


	30. Elams - I thought you were dead.

It could be any number of people at their door at any time of the day. Eliza had heard the knock and had expected it to be a messenger with some sort of note or a friend of hers stopping by for an impromptu call. 

She did not expect to open the door and find a familiar face looking to the side with his hands folded behind his back. Her hand covered her mouth in shock, and a small cry left her. “John Laurens? I thought you were dead.”

He looked at the ground, and when he looked back up she could see the tension around his eyes. He was nervous. “So did I.”

A million questions ran through her brain, but she stepped to she side and opened the door wide. “Come in, come in. I’ll make tea. Hamilton is at his office right now, but I can send a message right away. He tends to work late.”

John laughed and followed her inside. “That’s not surprising. But no need to send a messenger, I have to catch up with you as well, Mrs. Hamilton.”

A flush rose to her cheeks at the smile aimed her way. “I’ve missed you, John.”

John helped her with the tea, despite how much she tried to protest. “I’m not just going to sit in another room waiting for you when I can talk with you while you do.”

Soon, they were in the sitting room, sitting across from each other. “I’m sure you have questions, but I hope you don’t mind if I wait until Alexander comes home, to save me from telling the tale twice, it is quite long, after all.”

“It is no problem at all. Oh, I can’t wait until he comes home. He’ll be overjoyed,” Eliza looked down at her tea, “he hasn’t been the same, you know, since he got your father’s letter. He tries to hide it, but he just throws himself into work, or spends his free time with the children. I suppose I can’t really complain about a father taking interest in his kids, but I feel like I rarely see him anymore.”

John frowned, looking out the window. “I’ll talk to him, after the excitement dies down.”

“Thank you, John.”

A smile crossed his features, “you said children? I do remember hearing Alexander rave about how beautiful his Philip is, though I never got to meet him.”

“Would you like to meet him?” Eliza felt butterflies in her chest, knowing that this would be a life changing moment.

“I’d love to.”

“Wait here.”

Eliza stood, and went to wake Philip from his nap. A few minutes later, she was back in the sitting room with a sleepy toddler being held to her chest. John was looking out the window again, and she took a moment to look between the child in her arms and the man in the chair, and felt more certain than ever in her and Alexander’s suspicions. 

She took another step forward, “Here, John.” He looked up. “Would you like to hold him?”

John took Philip into his arms with a level of care she hadn’t expected. She watched his eyes widen as he took Philip in. John looked up, shocked, “he’s beautiful.”

“He is.” She took another step closer, lying a hand on John’s shoulder. “He takes after his father.”

John took in an audible breath. “You mean?”

She nodded. “We weren’t sure at first, but you know as well as I do that Alexander only freckles in the sun. Our Philip, your Philip, is much more like you in that regard. There are other things too, of course, but that’s the most obvious.”

John’s fingers went along the side of Philip’s face. “I had no idea. He’s perfect.”

Eliza smiled, and put her head on John’s shoulder. “Yes, he is.”

\--

John didn’t let go of Philip for the entire day, staring in wonder at the small human he held in his arms. Philip was quiet, for the most part, falling in and out of sleep. 

As evening approached, Philip began to fuss, and Eliza almost had to pry her son away. “He’s getting hungry is all, don’t worry. I’ll go feed him, I’ll be right back.” John nodded, letting go of Philip. Eliza didn’t resist the urge to press a light kiss to his cheekbone with a smile, heart fluttering at the flush that rose to his cheeks. “I missed you. I’ve said it before, but it’s worth reiterating.”

Eliza took Philip to the backroom, and soon after she sat down, she heard the front door open and a set of familiar footsteps. She moved to stand up, but gave it a second thought, deciding to allow Hamilton and Laurens their reunion.

She had expected shouts, a familiar voice in a low tone saying words of longing and adoration, even the sounds of an intimate embrace would not have been surprising. Instead, she heard Hamilton’s voice crack on the name, “Laurens”, and a loud thump.

She stood up, Philip whining at the movement, and walked to the sitting room. Eliza didn’t know what she thought she’d fine, but it was not her husband lying on the floor, blinking up at Laurens who was in a crouch. 

Laurens smiled down at Alexander. “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

“If I fainted straight into your arms, why didn’t you catch me?”

“You surprised me.”

Alexander sat up, eyes narrowing, “I surprised you. Are we not going to mention the shock you just gave me?” Alexander caught sight of her, “Betsey! You knew!”

She nodded. “I did.”

Hamilton frowned, “you’ve spent the day with Laurens, and didn’t think to send for me?”

John offered Alexander a hand before she could respond. “She offered, but I decided to take the chance to bond with my son before spending my evening much more productively with my lover and his wife.”

Alexander blinked. “I see.”


	31. Burrfayette - Relax Your Throat

Aaron couldn’t tell you how he got there, though he’d have no problem lying the blame at Hamilton’s feet. 

It didn’t matter how, though. All that mattered was the Marquis’ hand on the back of his head, guiding him forward. 

“Relax your throat.” Lafayette’s accent was stronger with his desire, and pride shot up in Aaron’s chest when he realized he was the one making the Marquis sound like that. It was him who had Lafayette’s attention for the night, the sweet smell of perfumed soap and sweat filling his nose.

He did as he was told, and soon his mouth was full of Lafayette’s cock, heavy on his tongue, flooding his senses. 

Aaron moaned, and Lafayette chuckled. “So good for me, little Burr.”


	32. Laflams - Marry me?

Lafayette wasn’t one to get nervous. John shot Alex a confused look when he saw how often Lafayette’s eyes flitted to the side. Alex raised a brow in response, but said nothing, giving only a shake of the head.

Dinner continued as normal, exchanging small talk about how their days at work had been. Lafayette kept jumping at the slightest noise, and John could feel the tension in the air growing. Lafayette was the one they could count on to be happy and calm and make the best of any situation. If Lafayette was stressed, something was wrong. Very wrong.

He slid his hand over to Alex’s thigh and squeezed, but kept the smile pasted onto his face. Alex’s hand went to rest on top of his own, gripping hard enough to cut off circulation. 

The waiter left after bringing their entrees, and John twirled the pasta onto his fork. “Laf, babe, what’s wrong?”

Lafayette startled and knocked over his glass of wine. “Nothing, absolutely nothing is wrong mon cher.” Lafayette chuckled. “What could have possibly given you that idea? Is something wrong? Something must be the matter if you’re asking me what’s wrong. Oh no, what happened. Are you breaking up with me?” Lafayette’s eyes were wide and fearful, and John’s heart clenched in his chest.

Before he could say anything, Alexander reached a hand over the table to grip Lafayette’s. “No, no, never. Why would you think something like that? You just seem worried about something, love. We love you, and want to make sure everything is okay, that’s all.”

“Right.” Lafayette sighed, and patted the now stained table cloth with a napkin, achieving nothing. “Well, I had planned on doing this properly, you know.” 

Lafayette answered the question on the tip of John’s tongue when two rings were set on the table. Lafayette’s eyes were focused on a point above their heads, behind them. “I, uh, know we can’t legally get married. But, uh, you know.”

John heard Alex swallow. “Laf, are you?”

“Yeah, I am.” Lafayette smiled, and looked between them. “Marry me?”

Alex yelped and jumped over the table into Lafayette’s arms, while John chose to walk around. He pressed a kiss to Lafayette’s cheek. “Of course.”


	33. Elams - You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.

Alexander got sick every summer. It was something they could rely on the same way they knew that the leaves would turn in autumn and it would be cold in winter. When the sun was hot and high and the sky and the air became humid, Alexander Hamilton would find himself put on bed rest.

He’d be overcome with chills and a fever and would soak through his sheets with sweat in a matter of hours. 

It was always terrible to watch. Alexander always needed to be doing something, was filled with life and ambition, and seeing him brought to such lows was uncomfortable for all involved.

But this time was different, this time his breaths were short and he was in more pain than he had been in previous summers. Alexander would reach out for them, try to grip John’s or Eliza’s hand when they visited him. His grip was light, lacking the strength they both knew Alexander had.

John liked to check up on Alexander, would wake up in the middle of the night, slip out of Eliza’s hold and stand in the doorway and stare as Alexander moved about his bed in a fitful rest. Alexander had been sleeping, resting, not aware of his surroundings for more than a few minutes at a time for three days now.

Tonight he woke up to find Eliza out of bed, the sheets still warm beside him. 

When he walked his usual path to the room Alexander was staying in, he found Eliza kneeling at the side of Alexander’s bed, her hand gripping Alexander’s, her forehead pressed against the blankets. 

Her words were quiet, punctuated by hitches in breath that John knew to mean she was on the verse of tears, “My Hamilton, you simply must get better. You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you. We can’t do this without you, Alexander. I love you, I need you to be better. The children need you, John needs you. Please, my love. Wake up, I need to see your eyes again, know they are clear and no longer covered with the haze of illness. Please, Hamilton, my Hamilton.”

John stepped forward into the room, and kneeled beside Eliza. He put his hand on her shoulder and brought her to his side, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Shhh, my dear, he’ll get better. It always gets worse before it gets better. Our Hamilton will be back up and writing and yelling and running before we know it.”

Eliza turned to press her head in his neck, her hot tears burning against his skin. “But, John, what if he doesn’t? What will we do?”

“We can’t think like that,” he moved his hand up and down her back, “we can’t.”


	34. Elams - I wish I could hate you.

John stood in the doorway, still and silent, looking at Alexander hunched over his desk, unmoving quill in hand. 

He took a step forward, floorboards creaking underfoot. Alexander startled, dropping his pen. John chuckled. “I wish I could hate you.”

Alexander froze. It was amazing to watch Alexander react in situation where he knew his words were not welcome. Alexander had tried to explain it - to the both of them, John and Eliza - but Eliza had shut that down. They both knew the power Alexander’s words held. They both burned their letters, wouldn’t let him speak unless spoken to.

John took another step forward, clasping his hands behind his back. “I wish I could hate you. I want to hate you, so much. There is nothing more I would love in this moment. I want to look at you and feel nothing. Hatred is still a form of passion - hatred involves feeling and thoughts. I don’t want that, I want nothing, I want my life to be rid of this, leave all this pain and tragedy behind us.”

He took in a deep breath, counted to ten, and continued to speak, “but I shall settle for hatred. I shall strive for hatred, because as terrible as hatred is, it must be better than this.”

Alexander opened his mouth, as if to say something, but thought better of it.

“Now, I am stuck, Alexander. I am stuck. You’ve hurt me, Alexander.” John paused, let the words settle in and leave their scars. “But worse than that, you’ve hurt Eliza. You do not understand the pain she is feeling, the ridicule she has suffered because of your mistake.”

Another step. The edge of Alexander’s desk was less than an inch from him now - the closest John had been to Alexander in weeks. “I want to hate you, I want to gather our Betsey in my arms and run away, leaving you and all memory of the hurts you’ve causes behind us.”

He closed his eyes. “But I cannot, because despite what you’ve done to us, I still love you.”


	35. John lives and finds out burr killed Hamilton

There was something both freeing and suffocating about leaving the world he knew behind him. People didn’t know him, and those who did viewed him as a villain. Long gone was the veil of respectability he had once shrouded himself in. 

Aaron walked into the tavern and sat down at a table in the dark corner. The sun was blazing hot outside, and the shade provided some small semblance of cool comfort. He took in a deep breath, inhaling the scent of sweat and warm beer that filled the building. 

Someone sat down next to him. He looked over and didn’t stop the gasp in time. The face was one he hadn’t seen in years, one he had expected to never see again. He closed his mouth, teeth clacking. “Laurens? Is that you?”

“Burr, you’re the last person I expected to find here.”

He shook his head. “I thought you were dead. Everyone thought you were dead. Hamilton,” he choked on the name, “thought you were dead.”

John looked down at his hands, twiddling his thumbs. “Yeah, I almost was. Everyone thought I was. I always planned on going back, but then time just slipped away, I guess.”

Aaron snorted. “You guess. Laurens, it’s been over thirty years. A lot has changed, too much has changed.”

Laurens leaned back. “How is Alexander? Where did he end up? There have been so many times I’ve gone to write him a letter, you know, but there was always something that stopped me.”

“Ah, yes, Hamilton.” Aaron laughed. “He was devastated after your father told him you died, you know. He threw himself into his work with a fury I’ve never seen anywhere else. He became a completely different person. Eliza was the only thing holding him together I see.”

Laurens’ brows furrowed. “Yes, Eliza Hamilton. How is he now though? After that? Like you said a lot of time has passed.”

“Do you really not know? It’s not exactly a secret.”

Laurens leaned in close. “What don’t I know?”

“Hamilton.” He raised a hand to his face. “Is dead.”

“What do you mean he’s dead?” Laurens’ eyes were wide. “He’s too stubborn to die.”

He sighed. “It was his stubbornness that got him killed. It was a duel.”

“Of course it was.” Laurens shook his head. “Who was it?”

“Me.”

Laurens was silent, mouth gaping open like a fish. Burr waited for Laurens to collect his thoughts. 

A minute passed.

“What in the actual hell, Burr?”

He leaned forward and put a finger over Laurens’ mouth. “Shhh, I’m not very well liked, as you can imagine.”

“Oh dear lord. But yeah, you know what, I can imagine.”

Laurens’ eyes narrowed in anger was the last thing Burr remembered seeing before a curled fist collided with the side of his face.


	36. Hamlaf - Have you seen- /oh/

There were certain things Alex knew Laf wouldn’t care about, would maybe accept and encourage, but he still couldn’t bring himself to share. 

He looked at his reflection and noted the contrast of the intricate dark lace against his skin, how the heels on his feet accentuated the muscles of his legs and ass in just the right way, the dark garter belt giving the faintest illusion of a cinched waist.

Every so often, Alex would take them out of the box he kept it all in and wonder what Laf would do if he found silk and lace instead of cotton under Alex’s jeans. 

He’d always think about it, picture Laf’s eyes going wide, a tongue peaking out to wet his lips. But, at the the last second, Alex would put them back and force himself to forget about it.

But right now, when Laf wasn’t due home for an hour or two, he didn’t have to worry about Laf’s reaction. Alex ran a hand down his legs, feeling the smooth silk beneath his fingers.

Alex smiled at his reflection and grabbed his phone. Maybe one day he’d send Laf a picture, see what he thought. 

He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a water bottle out of the fridge. He leaned against the counter and started the flip through his phone, answering a text from John about meeting up for drinks that Friday. 

The door clicked open and Alex froze when he heard Laf’s familiar footsteps. He looked around for a sweater or something and when he didn’t find anything, he leaned back into the corner of the kitchen, praying Laf would walk past and give him a chance to run to their room and change.

Laf was on the phone. “Of course, George. I’ll ask him, I just got home. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Alex held his breath as Laf ended the call and put the phone in his pocket. “Hey, love, have you seen-” Laf’s eyes landed on him, eyes wide. “Oh.”

He felt heat rise to his cheeks. “Uh, hi.”

Laf set down his bag and stalked forward. “Is this for me?”

Alex bit his lip. “You like it?”

A hand settled on his waist, thumb tracing the top of the lace of the garter belt. “Oh, I like it very much.”

“Well,” Alex smiled, feeling confidence bloom in his chest, and wrapped his arms around Laf’s neck, “in that case.”


	37. Washington/Laurens - So you’re my future bride/groom? You’re not what I expected at all

John had been told that his future spouse would strengthen their family’s connections. His father had rambled on for hours about how powerful they would be with the marriage - an alliance that would outshine all others. 

He knew his own thoughts on the matter were worthless, that it didn’t matter what he wanted for his own life, his family would always come first. 

It was long ago that John had resigned himself to an unhappy marriage, had told himself that enough ale would help him get through the wedding night and with luck there’d be an heir. 

John stood at his father’s side, standing straight and waiting to see just who it was he’d be tying himself to in the eyes of God and the law. His father turned to look at him and said, “I’ll admit it’s very strange we’re the ones receiving - by all rights I should be presenting you.”

“What do you mean?” 

Guards opened the doors. His father chuckled. “Did I never tell you? I thought I did. Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it? You’ll see.”

John nodded, and turned his eyes to the men walking in, searching for a hint of silk to find his future bride. Instead, he saw a familiar man dressed in a distinctive blue and gold. 

He inhaled, realization setting in. Next to John, his father fell into a shallow but polite bow. “King Washington of Virginia, I welcome you into my home and into my family.”

Washington returned to gesture. “Thank you for your kind greeting, King Laurens.” Washington’s eyes turned to him. “Hello, Prince John.”

It was only the years of etiquette that had been drilled into him that guided him into his own bow. “Your Majesty, it’s an honor.”

The King smiled. Washington turned back to his father. “I know it’s far from the normal order of things, but might I have a chance to speak with Prince John before our meal?”

Henry Laurens nodded his head. “Of course.”

“Prince John, might you enjoy a walk about the ground? I’ve heard you boast some of the loveliest of gardens.”

“I’d love to.” He stepped forward and accepted Washington’s arm.

They left the room, guards falling into step behind them. John held his breath, ever aware of the bulking man at his side. Washington’s voice was quieter now that they were alone, “you seemed surprised to see me.”

“I was.” He swallowed. “I think everyone assumed I knew, and I assumed it was being kept from me on purpose. My father seemed surprised when I asked who it was that was coming.”

Washington chuckled. “Did I meet your expectations?”

“You’re not what I expected at all.”

They turned a corner and stepped into the gardens, following along the main path. “What do you think, Prince John?”

He looked to the side, admiring the flowers as they strolled. “Now that the surprise is fading away, I find myself intrigued. My father told me that my marriage would secure a powerful alliance for our family, and now I understand. However, I do not know you, and I find myself in a different position from what I expected.”

“Relationships take time. We are different people, but I believe we’ll be able to become friends, at the very least. If you are opposed, other arrangements can be made.”

John shook his head. “I’m not opposed.” He let his eyes wander up and down the King’s strong frame, aware of the muscles of Washington’s arm under his hand. “I am very much not opposed, your Majesty.”

The King looked at him and raised a brow, smirking. “Oh? Well, in that case, I ask that you call me George, in private.”


	38. Hamlaf - Sex pollen/heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -a/b/o-

Alex shared his secret with Lafayette. Omegas didn’t have a place in the war, and it was through careful maneuvering and their favor with the General they were able to remain discreet. 

Lafayette was grinding against him on the cot they were sharing in the cabin tucked away in the corner of the camp. “Alex, I need, please.”

He ran his hand over Lafayette’s head and pressed a kiss to Lafayette’s plump lips. “Shhh, shhhh, I know, I know.” He wrapped his hand around the hard cock against his thigh. “Come for me, Laf, you’re so beautiful for me.”

“More, more, Alex, inside of me”

Lafayette came over his hand in thick white stripes, and and he pressed a kiss to Lafayette’s shoulder. “Whatever you want.”

“I want to taste you.” Lafayette’s eyes met his. “You make me feel so good, let me do the same.”

He shook his head. “Shhh, don’t worry, let me take care of you.” Alex ran his hand down Lafayette’s back and circled his finger around Lafayette’s dripping hole. “I’ll make you feel good, so good.”

“Please.“


	39. John Laurens/Angelica - Women have a much better time than men in this world; there are far more things forbidden to them.

Angelica wasn’t supposed to let her eyes wander, wasn’t supposed to keep downing drink after drink and start to question just what the young soldiers surrounding her looked like beneath their uniform. 

It was her sister’s wedding, and both Eliza and Alexander were smiling as wide as they could, eyes sparkling with love for one another. 

She crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair. She inhaled, looking forward to the moment she was able to undress. A man fell into the chair next to her. Angelica took a sip of her drink and took him in, hair falling out of its queue and his overall appearance portraying a feeling of misery. “Hello, what brings you here?”

The man looked up at her, surprised. His eyes widened as he took her in. “Angelica Schuyler, I might ask you the same thing.”

“Well,” she looked over to the happy couple. “It is my sister’s wedding. Aren’t you supposed to be off fighting a war?”

John Laurens sighed. “Yes, but Alexander asked me to be here.”

“Since when are Hamilton’s wishes more important than the war?” Angelica raised a brow. “I didn’t realize you two were close.”

Laurens snorted. “Close is a word for it.” He bit his lip, eyes darting over to where Alexander and Eliza were laughing together. “Close is definitely a word for it.”

“But not the word you’d use?”

Laurens emptied his glass. “Not the word I’d use.”

John Laurens was a handsome man, and a rich one. Angelica leaned forward and brushed her fingers along the edge of Laurens’ coat sleeve. “What word would you use?”

Hazel eyes met her own, lost and confused, and Angelica felt the faint hint of desire. Laurens blinked. “Intimate.”

Realization washed over her. “Oh, you’re in love with him too.”

Laurens looked down at the ground, avoiding her gaze. “Too.”

It was with a sudden rush of boldness that Angelica leaned in even closer, and dropped her hand to rest on Laurens’ knee. “Yes, too.” She peered around, no one was looking at them - all too caught up in their own drinks and entertaining the people around them. “I’d very much like to forget this night, Mr. Laurens, and you seem like the perfect person to help me do that.”

His movements were careful as his fingers brushed against her hand. “Women aren’t my specialty, Ms. Schuyler.”

“Obtain for us a bottle or two of whatever you’ll find, and we’ll deal with that later. I’ll be in my room, fully dressed.” 

Her rib cage ached to be set free from its confines, but the relaxing of Laurens’ shoulders told her the prolonged discomfort would be worth it. Perhaps not what she had in mind, but it was something.


	40. Mullette - remember when we were in high school and we swore that if we were still single at 30 we’d marry each other, well hey guess whose birthday it is

He wasn’t quite sure what motivated him to hit call, but as the clock turned the midnight, there didn’t seem to be a reason not to. 

Lafayette answered. “Hello?” 

“Laf, my man!” Hercules put his hand over his eyes, regretting everything that had lead to this moment.

“Hercules!” He could hear the grin in Lafayette’s voice. “Is everything okay?”

He dug the heel of his hand into his eyes and sighed. “I’m fine, but like, do you remember when we were in high school and we swore that if we were still single at thirty we’d marry each other?”

Lafayette’s voice rang clear like laughter in his ear. “Of course I do!”

“Well, guess whose birthday it is.”

The line was silent, and Hercules dug his hands in harder, causing black spots to form in his visions.

Lafayette cleared his throat. “Are you serious?”

Hercules looked at the empty bottles of beer on the table next to him. “Yep.”

“Are you okay? Seriously? Do you need me to come over?”

He laughed. “Well, since I’m proposing to you, your presence would be appreciated.”

“I’ll be there in less than twenty minutes.”

“I hope you don’t expect a ring.”

Lafayette sighed. “I’ll see you soon.”


	41. Jamilmads - so...what are we now

Alex’s chest was heaving, trying to get as much oxygen into his lungs as possible. There were pieces of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and the air smelled like sex and cigarette smoke. “What the fuck was that?”

Madison chuckled and scratched at his bare chest. “A good time.”

Jefferson snorted from where he was standing by the open window. “That’s one way to put it.” Jefferson took another drag of his cigarette. “It’s good to know that there is some truth to the rumors.”

“What rumors?” Alex looked at Jefferson. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean,” Jefferson said, shrugging. “It’s no secret that you’re a little, what’s the word, promiscuous? More than once I’ve heard people say your mouth is multi-talented.”

Alex felt the heat rise to his cheeks. “Who the hell?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Madison waved a hand through the air and said, “It doesn’t matter, it’s not going to happen again, so there’s no need to worry.”

“What do you mean it’s not going to happen again?”

Jefferson smirked and flicked the cigarette butt out the window. “Because you’re ours now.”

“Yours?”

Alex’s mouth dropped open and he ran his hand over the top of his head. “What?”

Madison leaned over and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Aww, did we make you speechless? Madison’s lips moved along his jawline and down his throat. 

“I?” Alex tilted his head to the side to give Madison better access. “I just, so, ah, uh, what are we?”

Madison chuckled and said, “it doesn’t matter what we are.” 

“He’s right,” Jefferson said, walking back over to the bad. He mirrored Madison on Alex’s other side. “It matters what we do.”


	42. Angelica/Theodosia

Her husband’s hand was settled on her waist, and Alexander’s eyes continued to flick over in an attempt to catch her own. Angelica took a sip from the glass of champagne in her hand and nodded at whatever the man Church was talking to said.

The room was warm, kept so by the fireplace and the body heat as people danced and mingled. She took in a deep breath, feeling her rib cage stretch against the dress. It was an odd sort of sensation, but one that served to keep her focused. Her eyes darted around the room, settling on the woman on Burr’s arm, laughing at something. 

Angelica smirked. She had heard about Theodosia, and she took in the elegant arch of Theodosia’s neck as she threw her head back in laughter. She turned to Church and said, “Darling, I think I see my sister.” She handed him her glass.

He gave her a quick look. “Of course, do tell Hamilton I send my greetings.”

“Of course.” 

Angelica smiled and stepped away from her husband. It was convenient how Hamilton and Burr managed to gravitate toward each other. Eliza and Theodosia were giggling over their own drinks while their husbands chattered away at their side. Angelica placed a hand on each of their forearms and said, “How are you two enjoying the evening? I thought I might join you two, if that’s alright.”

Eliza’s face brightened. “Wonderful! Angelica, this is Theodosia Burr.” 

Theodosia’s beauty from afar was nothing compared to what she was up-close. Angelica felt the air rush out of her chest, and she sounded breathless when she said, “Angelica Church, it’s an honor to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“All good, I hope.” Theodosia’s voice was smooth and her smile was like the moon. “Your name is not unfamiliar to me either.”

Angelica’s heart beat fast in her chest, and she smiled as Eliza said, “I do think you two will get along incredibly.”

“I’m sure we will,” Theodosia said, her eyes meeting Angelica’s, dark and gleaming. 

Angelica swallowed.


	43. Madilton - I’m so tired of everything about us, and about how we thought we were in love, and how we think forcing it can make us be in love– I’m so tired of it.

James accepted the lips pressed to his cheek in their mockery of an evening routine. He took a sip of his wine and turned around, the edge of the counter pressing into his back. James swirled the glass in his hand, rethinking Thomas’ words in his head. Thomas was right, for once. He and Alexander hadn’t been in love for a very long time - perhaps never had been. It was time. 

He watched as Alexander reached up for a second wine glass, no doubt intending to share the glass with him. Alexander turned back around to face him, their eyes connecting for the briefest moment before Alexander filled the glass. 

James set his glass to the side and wrapped his hand around Alexander’s wrist. Alexander looked up at him, surprised. James shook his head and said, “we need to talk - actually sit down and talk.”

Alexander’s eyes went wine and he opened his mouth but James raised a finger to stop Alexander before he began to speak. He met Alexander’s gaze and said, “you’re very persuasive, but so am I. This is something I’ve been thinking about for a very long time, so you’re going to let me speak, and I want you to think about it, not just spurt what comes to mind.”

Alexander nodded.

James continued. “This isn’t working - we aren’t working - and I’m tired of it.”

“What do you mean-”

“Shhhh,” he whispered. He reached up to push a stray piece of hair behind Alexander’s ear. “I’m so tired of everything about us, and about how we thought we were in love, and how we think forcing it can make us be in love– I’m so tired of it. I want to be in love with you, and you want to be in love with me - but I don’t think we are, in fact, in love with one another.”

“No,” Alexander said, shaking his head. “James, that’s not-”

He nodded. “Yes, it is. Think about it.”

“James-”

He pressed his finger harder against Alexander’s lips. “Alexander. Go sit down, talk to John, to Eliza - even Washington. Talk to them, really talk to them about this. Sort your thoughts. Get back to me.”

“But,” Alexander started. “I love you, you can’t just, treat this like some sort of business arrangement, James. I love you, I’ve loved you for years, and I will continue to. I’ve made plans around you.”

“Shhhh,” He tapped Alexander’s cheek. “Think about it, Alexander, that’s all I’m asking. Do you actually love me? Or have you fooled yourself into thinking that’s what this is? Think about this future you have planned - are you truly, genuinely happy?”

“How can you say this? You can’t just-”

Jame pulled his hands away from Alexander. “I can say this because the more I imagine a future with you, the less sure I am of it.”


	44. Hamlaf - Please marry me

“Fuck,” Lafayette said, looking at his phone.

Alex looked up from his computer, taking in the growing look of panic on Lafayette’s face. “What?” he asked.

“I fucking forgot,” Lafayette said, turning to Alex with wide eyes. “How did I forget?”

Alex stood up and walked over to clasp Lafayette’s shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

Lafayette shook his head and said, “I made a deal with my grandmother when I came here - you know she didn’t want me to come to America.”

Alex nodded. “Okay.”

“You know I’m rich,” Lafayette said. “Like very, very rich.”

Alex squeezed Lafayette’s shoulders. “Yes, I know. You’ve tried to pay my tuition while drunk like eight times.”

“Right.” Lafayette took in a deep breath. “So, I’m rich and my grandmother is a little old-fashioned.”

“You’ve said.”

Lafayette pulled away, turning and starting to pace the room, his hands flexing at his sides. “So,” Lafayette started. “I made a deal with my grandmother, She’d let me to go college in America if I promised to come back and get married to a girl of her choosing.”

“So you’re getting married this summer?” Alex sat back down. “But you promised it. I hate to say it, but you did this to yourself.”

“I know, I know.” Lafayette’s hands went to his hair. “But I don’t know her, Alex. I’m sure she’d lovely, but I don’t want to marry someone who’s basically a stranger.”

Alex crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back. “Then don’t,” he said.

“I have to,” Lafayette replied. “I promised.”

“There’s gotta be a loophole or something - she’s your grandmother. Have you tried talking to her about it?”

Lafayette shook his head and continued pacing. “She won’t want to hear it,” he said “She is a firm believe in marrying young, and she doesn’t like marrying down because she thinks they’re only after our money. But, she is a romantic at heart. It’s either arranged or convincing her I have a love match.”

“Go find an actress,” Alex offered.

“She’d see right through that,” Lafayette said, “She’ll insist on interrogating whoever I claim as the love of my life. And-” Lafayette’s hands moved to accentuate his point “-I’d still have to marry that person. If I broke up with them, it’d be right back to Adrienne.”

Alex raised a brow. “Adrienne?”

Lafayette raised a hand and said, “our families have been close for generations, it’s who my grandmother wants me to marry.”

“What about Jefferson?”

“What do you mean ‘what about Jefferson’?” Lafayette asked.

Alex shrugged. “As a fake-real husband.”

“Why Jefferson?”

“Why not?” Alex leaned forward, unfolding his arms and placing his hands on his knees. “I mean, I don’t like the guy, but you do. He’s not ugly, you’re friends, and he’s bougie enough he’ll probably pass all your family’s rich people tests.”

Lafayette snorted. “I’m not marrying Thomas Jefferson - he’s too much of a romantic as heart.” He brought his hands up to his face. “I need someone who I can deal with, but also someone who would view the status boost and what not as a decent trade-off for lack of true love. I do want a happy marriage, Alex.” Lafayette sighed. “I need a friend who’s willing to sacrifice their potential happiness.”

“Good luck,” Alex said, turning back to his computer.

Moments passed, the sound of Lafayette’s footsteps a steady backdrop to Alex’s typing.

“Wait,” Lafayette said, stopping his pacing. “How do you feel about becoming a Marquis? Kind of?”

“What are you talking about?”

Lafayette stepped forward and looked to the side, sheepish. “I might have understated my status.

Alex nodded. “Just a little.”

“Anyway,” Lafayette said. “How does Alexander Lafayette sound to you?”

Alex choked on air. “What?” he asked.

Lafayette dropped to a knee at Alex’s side, and looked up at Alex with earnest eyes, “Please marry me,” he said. “I’ll buy you a ring and everything.”

“You’re serious.”

Lafayette nodded. “Completely.”

Alex blinked. “What the fuck?”

“Please.” Lafayette grabbed for Alex’s hand. “We’ll figure out all the particulars - you can have affairs if you’re subtle enough. We’ll have to spend some time in France, but we can go back and forth. You can get a job that lets you travel - a freelance writer, maybe. You won’t need the money, but I know you’ll want to keep busy. I’ll-”

Alex raised a hand to cut Lafayette off. “Slow down,” he said. “You’re legitimately asking me to marry you right now?”

Lafayette nodded.

“Fine.”

Lafayette brightened, smile as wide as Alex had ever seen it. “Really?” he asked.

Alex nodded.

“Thank you so much!” Lafayette leaned up to and pressed a kiss to Alex’s lips,. “I love you, soon to be husband of mine. I shall lay the world at you feet if you would allow me to.”

“Right,” Alex said, still reeling from the kiss. “Of course.”

Lafayette squeezed his hand and said, “I really mean it. Anything.”

Alex nodded. “I don’t doubt it.” He looked down at Lafayette for a second, thinking. “We’re going to get married.”

“Yes, we are.”

Alex stood up and started toward the kitchen and said, “this calls for celebration.”

“Yes.” Lafayette went with him, their hands still entwined. “I think it is. You know, I’m happy it’s you.”

Alex reached up for the glasses. “Good, I’d hate to ruin your life.” He grabbed the bottle of wine. “Besides, we have a wedding to plan, and everyone knows that’s the real test of a relationship.”

Lafayette froze. “Shit.”


	45. Elams - angst

It was their anniversary, and Eliza had picked up the flowers hoping that today would be different. She knew how easy it was to get lost in someone, but it had gone too far. She’d give them one last chance. She clutched the roses tighter to her chest, took in a deep breath, and pushed the door open.

The apartment appeared to be empty, but Alexander’s bag was hanging on the back of the chair, and John’s shirt was in a crumpled up pile on the floor. Eliza sighed and put the flowers on the table, ignoring the lump forming in her throat. She twisted the ring on her finger as she started toward their bedroom. Eliza couldn’t even blame John for this - John who had stumbled back into Alexander’s life and found his place. It had taken him time to warm up to her, always hesitant.

But Alexander had promised her forever, Eliza knew his love for her had been genuine, and that made it hurt that much more.

She raised her hand to the doorknob and shut her eyes in an attempt to hold back tears when she head a familiar chorus of moans. Alexander had never been quiet in anything he did.

Alexander’s legs were wrapped around John’s waist, hands tangled in John’s hair. Eliza took in a shuddering breath when she heard John’s voice, “baby girl, you’re doing so good, so tight, that’s it baby.” They didn’t even know she was there – to caught up in each other to even spare her a thought.

A sob itched to rip through her chest, but Eliza took in another shaky breath to push it down. She stood in place for a moment, watching them. She waited for Alexander to catch sight of her and stretch out a hand with his a sulty grin, but no such move was made.

She ran a hand down her face, tears running down her cheeks as she accepted that this was it. She no longer had a place in her own husband’s life. Eliza stepped toward the closet and pulled the door open. She grabbed her already packed luggage and watched as the stacked show boxes fell into a pile from how little care she was taking. She looked back over her shoulder - John still thrusting into Alexander’s willing body, low moans and grunts accompanying the sound of skin on skin.

Eliza blinked away the tears, eyes burning, and lugged the bags out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her. She didn’t think it was too much to ask for – her own husband hadn’t kissed her in two months. It was their anniversary, and still she went ignored.

Her coat was halfway on when Eliza heard a small clatter, a muffled curse, and the bedroom door swinging open. She froze for a second before she finished shrugging on her coat.

“Betsey,” Alexander called out. “What are you doing?!”

She picked up her purse and turned around to face him. Alexander was staring at her with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. He was naked still. Eliza was sure she looked a mess, but she summoned what dignity she could. She lifted her chin and asked, “what day is it, Alexander?”

Realization set in on Alexander’s face, but before he could speak, John joined them wearing a pair of boxers. “What’s going on?” John asked, voice frustrated. Eliza snorted, unable to even blame him.

“I’m leaving, John,” she said. “I can tell where I’m not wanted.”

Alexander stepped forward, expressive eyes showing concern, and asked, “what do you mean?” John’s hand reached forward to grab Alexander’s wrist. 

“Today is our anniversary,” Eliza said. “You haven’t touched me in months. I’ve slept on the couch more often than not.” She took in a deep breath and said, voice breaking, “it’s supposed to be the three of us, but you two have barely looked at me. I was going to give you one last chance. There are dinner reservations at Tarantino’s. I hope you two enjoy yourselves.”

“But, Betsey, you can’t just leave.” Alexander was angry, eyes glinting with shock and fury.

Eliza shook her head. “I can and I will. Goodbye, Alexander. Goodbye, John.”

“But–”

John pulled Alexander back. “Let her go,” he said.

She turned away from them. “Angelica said she’ll draw up the divorce papers. Expect them soon.”


	46. You're not going out wearing that.

Alexander was sitting in his office, unplugged headphones on and door open - an old habit first formed when Philip was born. It wasn’t too late, and he had two more points to wrap up. He’d be in bed within the hour if all went well. Eliza had been getting on his back about it, saying she missed him. Alexander had pressed a kiss to her lips and promised to do better. And here he was, doing better.

He was raising his arms above his head in a stretch when he caught sight of something in the corner of his eye. Alexander removed the headphones - the slight noise dampening quality now gone - and head shuffling. He walked into the living room to find Philip walking toward the door, wearing what Alexander could only call club wear. His club wear.

Alexander crossed his arms over his chest and cleared his throat. “You’re not going out wearing that,” he said. “In fact, you’re not gong out at all.”

Philip froze, hand extended toward the door handle.

“Where do you think you’re going, anyway?” Alexander asked.

“To a friend’s house?” Philip offered, back still to Alexander.

He shook his head. “Oh, really?” he asked. “You took my clothing - went through the trouble of sneaking it away without me or your mother noticing - to go to a friend’s house?” 

“You wouldn’t have noticed!” Philip protested. “You haven’t worn this in years!”

Alexander chuckled and looked down at Philip’s leather-clad legs. “I wore those pants two weeks ago.”

Philip sputtered. “No you didn’t! Two weeks ago you took mom to a nice dinner!”

“And afterward we went to your uncle’s house and I changed into those pants,” Alex said. “Speaking of your mother-”

“No!” Philip interrupted, rushing forward. “Don’t tell mom, please?”

Alex shrugged. “Sorry,” he said. “I might have let you get away with it, but those are my favorite pants. And you won’t be alone in your suffering - she’s always said you take too much after me.” He flicked on the lights.

He sighed when he saw the familiar embroidered, mesh shirt Philip was wearing. Alexander snorted and said, “she’s not going to be very happy with you.”

“Dad-”

Alexander turned his head down the hallway and yelled, “Betsey! Pip’s trying to sneak out!”

Philip’s eyes narrowed, and t wasn’t long before Eliza trudged into the living room wearing a scowl and a robe. The kids trailed in behind her, wearing the same scowl - no one happy at being woken by his shout.

“What’s gong on?” Eliza asked.

Alexander pointed at Philip, who was trying to shrug on a coat, and said, “your son took my slut clothes and is trying to sneak out.”

“Oh?” Eliza asked, brow raised. “Now he’s my son? Who’s clothing is he taking again?”

Alexander shrugged. “It’s your shirt.”

“What do you mean it’s mom’s shirt?!” 

Eliza lifted a finger in Philip’s direction and said, “shut up and sit down, I’ll talk with you soon.” She turned to face the other kids. “Go back to bed.”

They watched as the children returned to their rooms, and Eliza pointed at the couch for Philip to sit. Alexander pulled over two of the dining room chairs, and they sat down and stared. Philip started to fidget, and Eliza sighed.

“Philip,” she said. “You don’t need to steal your father’s clothing to have a good time.”

Philip’s eyes widened. “That’s another thing!” He turned to Alexander. “Why do you even have these clothing? You’re old!”

Alexander shrugged. “Eh,” he said. “I still like to have fun.”

Philip closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hands, groaning.


	47. Washington/Alexander/Jefferson - washington and jefferson are professors and they take alex for a meeting

Alex should have recognized that something was being planned when he saw George’s name CC’ed on the email Thomas sent him, arranging an appointment to speak with him. To all outside appearances, it looked like they were meeting to discuss an essay he was planning on submitting for publication. 

He turned the corner and soon he was knocking on the door frame - the door open to reveal Thomas looking at his computer screen. “Dr. Jefferson,” he said, smirking. “I’m Alexander Hamilton, I’m in your Monday Wednesday lecture. I wanted to meet with you to discuss that paper I had mentioned.”

Thomas looked up, unimpressed. “Shut the door,” he said.

Alex raised a brow, but did as he was told. It was rare Thomas shut the door - both knowing that sometimes even it being left wide open wasn’t enough to stop them. He took a seat in the empty chair and set his bag down on the ground. He leaned back, legs spread wide. 

Thomas shut his computer and looked at Alex over his glasses. “You know why you’re here,” he said. “And it’s not for your paper.”

“Oh?” 

Strong hands clamped down on his shoulders - a familiar grip that had Alex sitting straight. How he hadn’t noticed George standing there was a mystery. Thomas’ office wasn’t what he’d call large, after all. 

“No,” George said. “We thought it time we discipline you.”

Alex’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. “What for?” he asked. 

He knew what it was for. Neither of them had paid him any mind in weeks, too caught up with meetings and other responsibilities. Alex had resorted to certain measures in an attempt to get their attention. He supposed he should have known that his fantasies of one of them calling him after class and fucking him against the whiteboard before other students trickled in was too much to ask for.

George’s hands slid down his chest, and one of them tweaked his nipple through the fabric of his shirt. Alex yelped in response, his dick giving an interested twitch against his thigh. 

“Shh,” George said. “These offices were hardly made with silencing you in mind.”

These moods of George’s were some of Alex’s most treasured times - hours spent being taken apart until he couldn’t remember his own name - but he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep quiet if George continued down this path.

He took in a breath. “Sir,” he said. “I don’t think-”

“No,” Thomas interrupted. “You don’t think, and that’s the problem.”

George tweaked his nipple again. 

“What do you mean?” Alex asked. 

Thomas stood up and walked to the side of his desk, leaning against it. “You’re not subtle at all,” he said. “Anyone looking at you could have known you were begging to get fucked.”

And yet they had both ignored him. 

Thomas continued before he could voice his protest, “I thought we had gone over the importance of discretion, Alexander.”

Alex nodded.

“But since that lesson didn’t quite sink in,” George said, hands sliding further down. “We’re going to try make sure it sticks.”

Thomas stepped in front of Alex and dropped to his knees, hands going to Alex’s thighs. A whine forced its way up out of Alex’s throat.

George reached a hand up under his shirt and squeezed the soft skin of his stomach. “Shhhhhh.”

Thomas undid the button of Alex’s jeans and pulled down the zipper. “If you make a single sound,” he said. “We will both immediately stop touching you, is that clear?”

“But what-”

“A single sound,” George said from above him, cutting him off.

Alex swallowed, but nodded.

George’s mouth found its way to the side of Alex’s neck, teeth scraping against the sensitive spot behind his ear. “And Alexander,” George whispered. “Don’t go thinking we’ll let it slide if you do break the rule. We don’t need you, there are plenty of people who’d willingly take your place.”

Alex knew he shouldn’t be more turned on that, and yet, here he was.


	48. Laflams - No. Don’t you dare shut me out!

Alex’s arms were weighed down with bags, and Laf’s laughter was echoing in his ears. He fit the key in the lock and managed to get the apartment door open, almost falling forward when Laf leaned against him. 

“Let’s see what our John is up to, yes?”

Alex set the bags down and shook his head. “He’s probably still sleeping, remember he had the late shift.”

“Pah,” Lafayette said, laughing. “We’ll make him breakfast and make it worth his while in other way, if you know what I mean.” Lafayette wraggled his brows and Alex let out another peal of laughter.

“Fine fine, if he’s angry it’s your fault.”

They picked their bags back up and set them in the bedroom. They both froze when they saw John, not asleep but face down into the pillow, muffled sobs barely audible.

Alex and Laf shared a look before they both rushed forward, each going to either side. “John,” Laf said. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

The sobs stopped, but John said nothing.

Alex laid his hand on the back of John’s neck. “My dear, what’s the matter. How can we help?”

“Don’t call me that,” John mumbled.

“John,” Lafayette said. “Talk to us. We can’t help unless we know what’s wrong.”

“You can’t help!” John said, pulling his head up. His face was red and shiny from where tears had dripped down. “Nothing is going to make it better! There’s nothing you could do to fix this!”

“Talking can help with the pain,” Lafayette said, voice soft. “We might not be able to fix the problem but we can help it hurt less.”

“No,” John said, pressing his face back down. “You can’t.”

“No,” Alex said, shoving John over. Lafayette’s approach wasn’t working. He rolled John onto his back - the lack of resistance speaking volumes. If John didn’t want to talk, he would have stayed firm. “You don’t get to do this. Don’t you dare shut us out like this. We’re here because we love you, and we’re here to support you. Life is terrible sometimes, but you don’t have to suffer through it alone.”

Lafayette nodded, reaching for John’s hand.

John sighed. “My father told me I’m not allowed to go to my brother’s graduation.”

Lafayette winced and looked up at Alex with wide eyes. Alex soothed his hand down the side of John’s face. “Have you tried calling your brother?”

John shut his eyes. “I can’t. My father has blocked my number from all of their phones.”

Alex nodded, mind scrambling for the right words. When none came, he laid down next to John and pressed his lips to John’s clothed shoulder.

“We’ll figure something out,” Lafayette said from John’s other side. “It’ll be fine. Your siblings love you.”

John said nothing.


	49. WashBurr - Aquarius: cyber sex, unpredictable sex, (more) open sexuality

Aaron sucked in a sudden breath when the aide approached. 

By the time he was standing in front of the General, Aaron was sure his worries were visible, having taken the time to walk over to fester and grow. Washington only ever called him when Hamilton wasn’t available and Tallmadge wouldn’t be able to put up with his mood.

Hamilton fought back, made it more difficult. So did Tallmadge, in other matters, but the difference between the two was that Hamilton enjoyed the fight, liked to make Washington work for it. Tallmadge melted into Washington’s touch, didn’t try to resist it. 

The General didn’t care enough for Burr to give him what he wanted. Tallmadge could blink his pretty blue eyes and Washington would melt, but Burr was expected to bow to the General’s whims.

Washington walked around the desk, and not a full moment passed before Washington’s hand was squeezing the back of Aaron’s neck and forcing him to his knees.

“I have need of you,” the General said.

“Of course, your Excellency.” 

He never knew what Washington wanted. Sometimes he’d be forced to kneel, and then Washington could sit and work for hours. Other times, Aaron would find himself bent over the desk while the General railed into him. He had never been able to read Washington’s moods. 

Washington undid the fastenings of his breeches and unceremoniously pressed the head of his already hard cock into Aaron’s mouth, pressing forward until Aaron could feel it nudging the back of his throat. 

Aaron didn’t know how Alexander liked this, why his eyes went so dark when he whispered of the things the General did to him. Maybe there was a difference in Washington’s touches - maybe Hamilton was treated as a lover, not a tool. 

There was not doubt in Aaron’s mind he was anything more than a convenient hole for Washington to shove his cock in. 

It didn’t take long, it never did. Washington’s movements were mechanical, and Aaron closed his eyes and let it happen. Saliva was dripping from the corners of his mouth, and Washington was hot and heavy on his tongue. The hand on his head kept him in place and he waited.

Aaron swallowed what he could when the General grunted when he reached his peak, the rest dripping out of his mouth, following the trails of the spit. 

Washington stepped away and fixed his clothing. He looked over Aaron, eyes flicking from the top of his head to the floor where he was kneeling. 

The General handed Aaron a handkerchief, which he used to wipe his mouth. There was only so much he could do for his appearance, but Aaron appreciated the gesture, small though it may be. 

He ran into Hamilton on the way back to his own tent. 

Alexander grabbed his arm to stop him and smirked at him. “So, I see his Excellency got a hold of you.”

“I thought you weren’t here,” Aaron said, disbelief evident.

“Oh not,” Alexander said, shaking his head. “I want sent away so you could pay the General a visit.”


	50. Burrfayette - Mine, mine, mine...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darker vampire au, with all that entails

“You’re so beautiful,” Lafayette said, circling Burr. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

Aaron shook his head, the words he was trying to get out muffled by the cloth Lafayette has forced between his teeth. His wrists struggled against the rope tying his arms behind the chair. 

Lafayette shook his head, stopping in front of Burr. “Tsk, tsk.” He wagged his finger at Aaron before dropping his hand to press against the cuts on Aaron’s chest. “You’re not supposed to make noise, you know. Silent and pretty, pretty and silence, just for me. Mine, mine, mine…”

Aaron shook his head.

Lafayette clicked his tongue. “You’ve never known love like this before, have you?” he asked. “I worship you.” He lifted his finger and looked at the blood that had gathered at the end of it. He admired the red gleam of it for a second before bring it to his mouth and wrapping his lips around his finger. “No one else has loved you like this.”

Aaron’s eyes were wide. 

“I’ve been told time and time again I shouldn’t play with my food,” Lafayette muttered, moving to sit on Aaron’s laps, straddling his thighs. “But I’ve never been very good at playing by the rules.”

Lafayette threw his arms over Aaron’s shoulders, a mockery of a lover’s embrace. Aaron let out a high-pitched whine, and Lafayette smiled wide, revealing sharpened canines. “Ooooh, you make the prettiest sounds,” he breathed, voice full of wonder.

Aaron grew very still as Lafayette dipped his head down.

“I wonder if I should turn you,” Lafayette whispered, lips brushing Aaron’s neck. “You’re one of a kind, I’ll never find anyone else like you. You could be mine forever…”

Aaron tilted his head to the side, away from Lafayette.

Lafayette laughed. “Oh no,” he said. “Don’t do that.”

Aaron let out another high-pitched sound. “I’ll take good care of you, my beauty. This won’t hurt…much.”


	51. WashBurr - Do I have to lock you up, darling?

“George darling,” Aaron called out, voice light and cheerful. “You’re not leaving before dinner, are you?”

George froze in place, his hand inches away from the doorknob. “Of course not,” he said. His shoulders were stiff, his tone even stiffer. “I was just…going to stretch my legs.”

“You seem to be awfully fond of doing that, George,” Aaron said, putting his hands on his hips. He shook his head, clicking his tongue. “Last time you went to stretch your legs I had to go chase after you. All the way in Virginia.”

“I missed home,” George said, tensing. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Aaron closed the distance between himself and George and wrapped an arm around George’s waist and pressed his cheek in the space between George’s shoulder blades. “Of course you didn’t darling,” he whispered. “But you did anyway. I just don’t want you to run away. Everyone always leaves me. You can’t leave me, I just couldn’t bear it.”

“Maybe you could accompany me next time?” George offered.

Aaron chuckled. “No, we know I don’t leave the house,” he said. “I’m not allowed.”

“You always say that,” George said, voice hardening. “What does that mean?” 

“It doesn’t matter what it means, darling,” Aaron said, matching George’s tone. “You just can’t leave.”

“What happens if I leave?” George asked. “I’ve done it before, why can’t I do it again? Why are you keeping me trapped here?! They need me!”

Aaron giggled. “I’m the only thing you need to worry about, George. Don’t you let those others occupy your mind. You only have room for me in your heart.”

George tried to run forward, but found himself unable. “What have you done?” he asked, horror-stricken.

“Oh, nothing you don’t deserve,” Aaron said. “You kept running away. Do I have to lock you up, darling? Is that what you want? I personally would prefer not to, so this is the next best thing.”

“I am responsible for my men!” George said. “You can’t keep me here!”

Aaron went up on the tips of his toes and pressed a kiss to the back of George’s neck. “I can and I will,” he said. “My very life depends on it.”


	52. Hamlaf (Jamilton) - I am not the true king/queen – I am merely their body double.

Alexander handed his cape to the nearby servant. “Where’s Thomas?” he asked.

The servants exchanged wide-eyes looks. “Your Majesty…”

“I’ve missed my husband,” Alexander said. “Surely he’s here somewhere.”

He received no responses.

Alexander narrowed his eyes. “Where is my husband?” he asked, tone colder.

The servants all ducked their heads, remaining silent.

“I’m not going to repeat myself again,” Alexander said. “Where’s Thomas.”

One of the girls answered, her voice small, “the King is in the library, your Majesty.”

Alexander clapped his hands together. “Thank you!” 

He turned on his heel, ignoring the angry muttering taking place behind him.

The library wasn’t far away, Thomas’ favorite a smaller one hidden away among their private quarters. He strode forward, ignoring the odd looks of the servants and guards as he neared the destination.

Alexander shoved open the library doors, breathing in the musky smell of the old books. “Thomas,” he called out. “My King, I’ve returned.”

There was the sound of something falling to the ground followed by muffled cursing. Alexander made his way toward the sound, the window seat that he knew Thomas favored.

He smiled to himself once he caught sight of Thomas, nose stuck deep in a book. Alexander had missed him. 

He sat down in the empty space at Thomas’ side and pressed his cheek to Thomas’ shoulder. “Hello love,” he whispered. “I’ve missed you.”

Thomas stiffened.

Alexander looked up and trailed a hand across Thomas’ chest. “Have you missed me, my King? I’ve spent night after night dreaming of being in your arms again, surely you have an hour or two to spare to properly welcome me home?”

Thomas looked down at him, eyes wide with panic.

Alexander lifted his head. “Thomas?” 

Thomas shook his head and pushed away from Alexander. “Ah,” Thomas started. “You must be Alexander, I don’t believe we’ve had the fortune of meeting yet.”

There was something off about the voice. Alexander narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean, ‘you must be Alexander’. We’ve been married for over a year.”

“No, you’ve been married to the King,” Thomas said. “I am merely his…body-double.”

“Body-double?!”

The not-Thomas nodded. “Yes,” he said. “His Majesty had an secret or unplanned something-or-other came up, and when that happens and none of the royal household are here, I act as him.”

“You pretend to be Thomas?”

The still unnamed not-Thomas nodded, looking at him with wide eyes.

“What’s your name then?” Alexander asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Lafayette.” He smiled, bright - just like Thomas. 

Alexander nodded. “I see,” he said. “Well…I’ll just…go take care of myself then. Good bye.”

“No!” Lafayette called out, reaching for Alexander’s wrist. 

Alexander raised a brow. “No?” he asked.

Lafayette suddenly looked sheepish, but he scooted closer. “I mean…I’m to act as Thomas in all ways, in these occasions. If you wish to have me in such a manner, your Majesty, I am here for such purposes.”

It wasn’t a good idea, but there was something about Thomas’ face looking at him with such a pleading expression that had Alexander nodding and pulling Lafayette to a standing position.

He looked at Lafayette for a moment, considering. “I shouldn’t do this. You are not Thomas, you are not my husband. This is deceit of the worst sort.”

“His Majesty’s last words to me were to act as him in any situation,” Lafayette answered. Lafayette’s tongue darted out to lick his lips. “Though, in this case I do not know how he acts so I’d be falling back on my personal inclinations, unless you were to direct me otherwise.”

Alexander felt a pulse of heat run through him. Thomas was a good husband and a good lover, but it’d been so long since he’d had someone following his words, doing as he commanded. He swallowed.

“Lafayette,” Alexander said, sounding sure of himself, his mind already forming pictures - the fantasies he’d never spoken of before possible for the first time. 

“Yes, your Majesty?”

Alexander reached forward and placed his hand on Lafayette’s shoulder, taking a moment to dig his thumb into the muscle and dig into it, the slightest bit. Lafayette let out a low sound, a quiet acknowledgement more than anything.

He pushed down, and Lafayette dropped to his knees, looking up at Alexander with wide, open eyes. 

“Thomas worships me, you know,” he said. “But, he’s never gotten on his knees like this. It’s always in bed, always lying down, never like this…”

Lafayette nodded. “I am…quite talented in this regard, your Majesty.”

Alexander hummed and lifted his finger to trace the seam of Lafayette’s lips. Lafayette’s mouth opened, tongue darting out, anticipating more. Alexander’s cock twitched against his thigh. 

He sat down and spread his legs, leaning back. He pulled his hand back. 

“Well,” Alexander said. “Make it worth my while.”


	53. That is genuinely disturbing. - Thomas/Aaron/George (TMM Verse)

Aaron pulled on the raincoat with a chuckle as he watched Thomas check his makeup in the mirror. 

George came out of the kitchen, two bottles of wine in hand. “You know, this is kind of sick.”

“It was your idea,” Thomas shot back, running a hand though his hair. He straightened his fake-blood stained shirt and turned to Aaron. “Ready?” he asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Aaron held out his arms, semi-joking, but smiled wide when George and Thomas came up to either side. 

The drive to the office was filled with humor-filled looks and the occasional burst of laughter. 

“You know,” Thomas said, from the front passenger’s seat. “If you told me I had been doing this a year ago I might have actually gone into shock.”

Aaron snorted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

It had taken them weeks to figure their Halloween costumes out. Lafayette had announced the first week of September that they were to clear Friday evening before Halloween for the purposes of a work party, and if they didn’t show up there’d be hell to pay. Costumes were mandatory.

Thomas had wanted to do a themed costume, something coordinating for the three of them. Each idea he brought up - the three musketeers, Cat In The Hat and Things 1 and 2, the chipmunks from Alvin and the Chipmunks - had all been shot down.

There was only so much Thomas had been able to take before he had slammed his hands down against the table and asked them for ideas.

Perhaps it was out of exasperation, but George had taken a short look around the apartment - stopping on the Joker poster, the hook in the hallway, the marble cutting tray on resting on the counter - and had suggested they go as Mr. Grin and two victims, as a laugh. 

Aaron had agreed immediately.

There was something off-putting about seeing George and Thomas painted up like victims - their cheeks a distinctive red, fake bruises littering their throats. Apparently George had taken a costume makeup class or two in college, and it was realistic enough to be discomfiting. 

They were early to the party, as they intended to. Thomas had explained that his theory was it’d be better they were already there than make a grand interests. They were all very aware their costume wouldn’t be taken well, but the irony was too much to exist. 

Lafayette was the only one there when they walked into the open area in front of George’s office where the party would be taking place, his back was to them as he arranged something on the table with refreshments.

The trio stood there for a moment in silence, and Aaron was suddenly aware that perhaps this might not have been the best idea. Lafayette knew, but the sudden itch climbing at the back of Aaron’s throat had him worried for the reaction. And if he was this worried about Lafayette, God knew how the rest of the party would go. 

Thomas pushed George forward, looking down at bottles of wine in George’s hand. 

Aaron reached for Thomas’ hand and intertwined their fingers. Thomas squeezed them back and offered a small smile.

They both looked back to George and Lafayette, focusing in as Lafayette turned around and wrapped his arms around George. A moment later, he stepped back and the smile on his face morphed into something….quite different.

Other people started to trickle in, and eventually, George made his way back to Aaron’s side.

“How’d it go?” Thomas asked.

George sighed, and took a long sip of the amber liquid in the glass in his hand. “As well as you can imagine.”

Aaron accepted the offered glass of wine, handing the other to Thomas.

Thomas took a sip and gave a hum of approval. “Well, at least Angelica’s not here yet.”

Aaron choked on his wine, and George’s hand came to rub his back in a comforting manner.

There were more than a couple odd looks thrown their way, but the fact that they remained pressed against the wall seemed to help slightly. 

More people came - coworkers, friends, plus-ones - and Aaron almost thought they’d make it through the night without anyone looking too closely. 

He thought too soon.

“You know,” Maria said, her dark cheeks giving away just how much she had already had. “That is…that is genuinely disturbing.” She looked between the three of them with a frown. “You worked that case…those were your friends…”

All Aaron had to offer her was a shrug and a small grin.

“Angelica might not be coming,” George whispered. 

“I’d love too think that’s true,” Thomas muttered. “But somehow, I doubt that.”

Thomas was right.

Angelica wasn’t walking toward them, was merely passing through, when they caught her eye. She stopped mid-stride, the Cleopatra dress she was wearing fluttering with the sudden change in motion.

She looked at them, eyes shining with something, mouth gaping like a fish. She gathered herself, and her gaze narrowed to a glare. 

“Oh my god,” she said. “Oh my god.” She took a step forward and poked Aaron’s chest as if checking he was real. “You did not.”

Aaron took the knife out of his pocket, twisted it so that the life reflected on the the blade.

Angelica’s lips thinned. “You’re a sick fuck, you know that.”

“No need for such rude language, Ms. Schuyler,” George said. “It’s a party, after all.”

Angelica’s mouth dropped open again, as if she had expected George to stand with her despite him being dressed as a murder victim. “You-you…that was your son! Alexander! My brother-in-law! He worked here!” She took in a deep breath. “You’re just…”

George shrugged. “Humor is a coping mechanism.”

Aaron caught Angelica’s eye. “It is funny,” he said. “That you bring up Alexander.” Angelica blanched slightly. “Without seeming to care for James, or even Lafayette’s own experience.”

“Fuck you,” Angelica spit out. “I don’t have to deal with this.”

Aaron smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to come pester me on my [tumblr](http://ashilrak.tumblr.com)! :^))
> 
> <3 <3 <3 <3 <3


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